


We Are Number One But Every "One" Is Replaced With Ichigo Going Balls-Deep In Yoruichi

by Frocto



Category: Bleach
Genre: Adultery, Breeding, Cheating, Cuckquean, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Impregnation, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frocto/pseuds/Frocto
Summary: Yoruichi and Rangiku compel Ichigo to cheat on his wife Rukia! Strong adultery/cuckolding warning!





	1. Anniversary Night

Ichigo Kurosaki, normally ever the surly grump, felt like he was walking on air today. Who could blame him, really? Today marked a particularly special occasion: the five-year anniversary of his marriage to his beautiful wife, Rukia. And, needless to say, their anniversary plans for tonight were nothing short of fairy-tale perfect. 

They would kick things off with a romantic candlelit dinner for two. How could they begin any other way? Reservations for Rukia’s favourite fancy restaurant were almost impossible to come by, but they had been planning this night for a long, long time indeed. Their window-side table, where the lighting was best and the sweet siren sounds of the band were just right, had been reserved months and months in advance. For an event this important, Ichigo wouldn’t dare allow a single detail out of place!

After dinner, they would head down to the beach for a long, leisurely stroll, and slowly but surely wind their way back home... There, God and wine willing, the pair would enjoy a night of passion [i]so heated [/i]it could fill the pages of a super-sleazy doujin!

All Ichigo had to do now was pick up her gifts. Those, too, had received just as much care and attention as dinner - not to mention money. The price tags on some of his chosen presents made his wallet ache just thinking about them... but wouldn’t it be worth it in the end to see his beautiful wife’s face all aglow, see her face highlighting as her cheeks dimpled gently?

The anniversary gifts in question were as numerous as they were lovely. Blood-red wine aged to chest-warming perfection, a dozen red roses, a box of the raven-haired waif’s favourite liqueur chocolates. And the centrepiece: a beautiful diamond necklace that sparkled and shone as only diamond ever could. 

Some would consider the gifts altogether too much for just a first anniversary, but Ichigo couldn’t imagine giving Rukia anything less. True love was true love. 

Ichigo checked his smartphone, and wiped his brow when he discovered it was already coming up 6:30. He was supposed to meet Rukia at 9 o’clock, and still needed some time to track into the city to pick up the bouquet of delightfulness he’d prepared for her. He hopped onto the first train pulling into the station and began the long trip to Roppongi.

It was while he stood on the train, jostled to and fro by its numerous occupants, that Ichigo’s phone let out the briefest little beep. He reached a hand down for it, and quickly found himself struggling with the crowd around him just to get into his pocket. He might have been a man in the prime of his youth, muscular from his martial arts training, and toweringly tall and broad-shouldered, but even men who had conquered the likes of Squad 13 and the fearsome Espada could still find themselves struggling with a greater evil: Tokyo’s JR train line.

Finally, Ichigo managed to fish his phone out, thumbing idly through his messages. His eyes flashed with delighted surprise when he saw the bright green ‘New Text!’ next to Rukia’s name. 

Eager to see what his little bundle of joy had sent him, Ichigo raised his thumb to tap down on the message. But before he could get there, his phone unexpectedly beeped again.

That was odd... A message from Miss Matsumoto? What could she possibly want? And didn’t she know he and Rukia more than had their hands full with each other today? 

Well... Rukia would have her hands full, anyway. Ichigo barely had to raise his arms to encircle those thin, undernourished shoulders of hers.

Ichigo wavered when he saw Rangiku’s text message had some kind of image attachment, but only for a moment. It could wait while he checked on Rukia. 

[b]Rukia Kuchiki: [/b]Hey... Hope tonight’s the night! >>

For the briefest of moments, Ichigo’s uncharacteristic smile became a scowl again. He uncomfortably rubbed his ankle against his other foot. He knew exactly what she was referring to… and would have preferred to avoid the reminder. It was true his wife was perfect, delicate and pure, like a sweet flower in every way, but... for whatever reason, their efforts to produce a child together had been fruitless.

Of course, they’d both been working their way down a list of remedies since the wedding. The doctors had been quick to resoundingly affirm the fault wasn’t with Ichigo. If anything, his disproportionate member overcompensated his end of things a hundredfold; his dizzying length never failed to make Rukia squirm in discomfort when her shallow pussy was invaded, her small womb hammered on irresponsibly... 

And his girth wasn’t far behind! Rukia could barely take Ichigo inside without clutching his arms tightly and burying her face in his chest to muffle her cries. He sighed and shook his head, remembering the embarrassment of their honeymoon. For a grown woman, she still had the body of a child.

So they continued to try, because she knew Ichigo sorely wanted a baby. He craved to make her body abundant with child, and her tiny belly swell out into a living reminder of their union - a heavy and opulent mark of his virility... and her acceptance of their bond. He was so enthusiastic in worshipping the ideal of a pregnant wife that Rukia herself had been thoroughly swept up in his fantasies. She wanted to be pregnant almost as badly as he wanted her to.

But her body simply failed to cooperate. Her small child-like pussy was thin and whispery, far from up to the task of giving a criminally-oversized cock the milking and massaging it demanded. When Ichigo’s thick, overpowering sperm flowed into Rukia’s belly, her eggs made themselves scarce, flushed out of her womb almost as soon as they entered. 

Rukia and Ichigo had the fertility of a regular couple between them... if only it weren’t alll concentrated in his strong male body.

But, at the same time, it seemed almost fitting. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, her inability to bear a child so far was part of what made Rukia herself. Even her wishes to get with child were delivered in shy, blushingly earnest ways... like “Hope tonight’s the night! >>” 

Girls who acted like that didn’t get pregnant. It seemed almost ridiculous to imagine a blushing maiden like Rukia with a massively blown-up stomach, a gravid and plush fertility goddess [i]litter[/i] that anchored her to her man, a child-stuffed womb that would gush out his progeny as many times as he wished. No, that sort of wild, fantasy-like impregnation was the domain of wild, crazy, animalistic girls... bitches and sluts who partied all night, drinking and singing.

Ichigo couldn’t help but smile ruefully. In a way, Rukia’s inability to satisfy his base, vulgar urges was just part of her being a demure Japanese wife, a faithful pillar that supported her man with modesty and decorum.

Well, whatever! Ichigo closed the message, and thumbed down to Rangiku’s. Time to see what that fat sow wanted from him.

[b]Rangiku Matsumoto: [/b]Hey, stud! Check out our new tops, heehee~ We’re gonna wear ‘em at the club tonight!

Abruptly, the train turned a tight corner. Ichigo felt himself tossed against the sliding doors. His thumb slipped at the same moment his head bumped against the glass. 

He came to a slow and steady stop, shaking the stars from his vision. At first the poor boy thought maybe he’d taken a harder knock than he could have guessed. The picture he was looking down at [i]did [/i]seem to be the stuff of fantasies...

For a few moments, Ichigo as good as forgot he was on a train. His heart skipped a beat as he stared on at that hypnotic image. But it didn’t vanish like the fantasy he believed it to be. It remained real, tempting, just out of reach on this crowded, cramped train carriage.

The tiny screen of Ichigo’s little Smartphone had become like a gate into a wild fantasy world. The frame seemed to bulge with its contents, struggling to contain two of the largest, most earth-shaking pairs of tits he’d ever seen in his life: four head-swallowing breasts sandwiched together.

“Ghhhk...” Ichigo groaned, leaning down for a better look. He squared his shoulders and planted them on the train’s window, tucking his head in-between them, and quietly filled his mind with visions of breasts.

The pair on the left were big and black. A chest of staggeringly African descent. Even under normal circumstances, Yoruichi’s mouth-watering titties could effortlessly render grown men as nursing babies, but today they’d been enhanced considerably, packed tight into a small cut-off top that barely seemed to be there at all. They treated the tiny piece of black fabric as a joke, stretching it to beyond-breaking point with their immense size. 

In every dimension, the top lost its struggle against bosom. And rightly so... World-class tits like these would never allow themselves to be concealed so easily. Yoruichi’s melons were the stuff of mens’ most childish dreams... so it made perfect sense that a shirt that would have covered a regular woman’s chest down to her navel looked like a wispy bra on her - and an overworked one at that! Her udders exceeded expectations, drawing endless stares and admiration. 

How was the shirt even holding up under all that weight? The expanse of cotton crossing her cleavage was stretched so thin it looked like it might tear in a heartbeat. The writing along the chest - which he briefly registered as the word “BITCH” - was laughably stretched out. The “B” and the “H” were barely visible. The little shirt’s straps straps suffered the most of all. Where they rode up her chest to loop around behind her neck, the thin black bands half-sunk into flawless black breast-meat, almost entirely swallowed up. 

And that wasn’t even the hardest part to handle. Yoruichi’s chest took up only [i]half [/i]of his screen - every remaining pixel was occupied by [i]another [/i]pair of cow-udders!

Coming in from the right, jostling for pole position, came more big, all-natural breasts. They fought Yoruichi’s smooth black orbs to soothe Ichigo’s wide-open eyes.

This chest was light and pale, smooth and shiny, and the perfect contrast to Yoruichi’s dusky rack. Sheets of honey-blonde hair spilled down over the flawless swells, coiling and lingering over every inch like so many perverted touches - feeling her in ways that countless men only dreamt of. Rangiku’s chest was a wonder of the world, a marvel that existed solely to turn innocent men into perverts, to fasten semen production, and most importantly of all... to help young boys grow into strong, healthy men with large, hard cocks.

Rangiku hadn’t bothered with a shirt. The bust-bully had instead wrapped a ghetto-green bikini top around her shelf of knockers, holding her bust up together nice and tight. It smooshed them up and out into a deep, deep cavern of milky-white cleavage, softness any man could get lost in. Staring directly at it made Ichigo’s mouth water and his brain numb. When they stopped at the next station, he shifted his hips away from the automatic doors to protect the hardest erection of his life.

There was only one thing that could make the shot more perfect: the girls’ naughty faces, immortalized in their most perverted “Fuck me!” expressions.

But as long as those naughty double-racks occupied so much of the frame, space was limited... Fitting their faces in as well just hadn’t been possible! But there was one titillating trick in store for him riiiight at the top of the shot...

Glancing up rewarded the big-dicked hero with something a casual observer might have missed: two pairs of bright-pink lips, hovering over the shelves of torpedo tits aimed squarely at the camera. Both of those semen-in/drool-out orifices were upturned in impish smiles riiiight at the very top of the frame, smirking at Ichigo oh-so-knowingly.

Ichigo swallowed as he looked upon those bountiful racks, and two words rose unbidden to his mind. A moment later and it was on his lips: “Baby... Feeders...”

He failed to cope. Ichigo struggled to calm himself down, but his heart raced in his chest. Just a glimpse of those incredible tits had completely destroyed his brain. He struggled to tap the buttons of his phone (whether to close the message or reply, he couldn’t be sure), and he couldn’t. The tit-brainwashed boy’s hands shook far too much.

The doors opened with a ding, and a Japanese woman’s voice sweetly announced, “Roppongi!” Ichigo forced himself to lurch off the train. 

He collapsed into the first seat he saw, sagging under the weight of what those chests had done to him.

Now the tall, hung bull had two messages to reply to. The one his heart called towards... And the one his strong urge to procreate drew him to. He swallowed, took a gulp of water, and then held his phone with both hands. Ichigo made his decision.

Rukia could wait a little bit, right? 

Right! 

They knew where they were meeting, and they knew when they were meeting. All the details had been taken care of, it was just a question of meeting up at the restaurant with the present, then treating his beautiful wife to all the love he had for her! That would be simple enough. Downright easy! He could do it in his sleep. 

Which might be a good thing... Meeting with those two big-breasted vixens might leave Ichigo completely drained, after all. He tapped out a reply to the teasing temptresses' message, eagerly responding that he [i]could [/i]see them... Although he did have a little something to get to afterwards. Nothing important, really. He took care to stress that he would be hard-dic -  hard-pressed to pass up some time with his favorite two honeys! Ichigo tapped "send" as he rose shakily from his seat, heading towards the gift shop... A quick stop-off for Rukia’s presents, and then meeting the girls at the club. 

It was going to be a big diversion, but he had to at least drop in at the club his two gal-pals were partying in, didn't he? And the marvels of Japanese technology meant that, if he needed to, he could make it to his restaurant rendezvous with Rukia in minutes flat. Not a problem! He was perfectly fine, and he'd be able to make his date with Rukia, no problem.

It was while he was in the gift shop, picking up the last of her gifts that the next message came.

The only problem was the fat, throbbing bull-rod nearly poking a hole in his pants as his phone buzzed and another teasing message came up. A video! He downloaded the whole thing, popped in his earbuds, and hit "play”... before nearly losing his mind. 

In the end, the view was absolutely worth it. Rangiku and Yoruichi partied at the club, eager for their boytoy to come and join them... and the girls had no qualms at all showing him what he was missing out on. While Rangiku sat in back, one hand holding her phone steady and the other scritch-scratching the neck of her Appletini... Yoruichi ascended into a living fertility idol on the dance floor.

It was mesmerizing. It was as far removed from Rukia sexually as anything could ever possibly be: the giant black ass gyrating and twerking up and down on the tiny screen of Ichigo's phone might as well have been from another planet. Those seductress curves looked as though they’d been conjured up from Ichigo's wildest fever dreams, wrapped up in a painted-on pair of hip-hugging yoga pants and stamped to be shipped straight to his lap. The white spandex pants came with windows all the way up the legs, slits that revealed tantalizing peeks of sinful flesh. Lucky little Ichigo drank it all in, loving everything about them... Those cock-stiffening dick-teasers had thoughtfully come pre-ripped, making it so much easier on horny young men like him, who needed to breed A.S.A.P. One little tear up the side and they’d peel right off, nice and easy~

Inside pants ripped straight from a hip-hop video, the Shinigami babe's very fat, very black, and very shiny ass shook, cheeks clapping for the camera. Each skank-tacular sway heaved them on her molded curves a little more, flashing a little more gleaming butt over the waistband and revealing more and more of the rhinestone thong riding all the way up to Yoruichi's waspish waist.

"Woooo! Yeah~! Shake it, gurl!" called Rangiku. Both beauties laughed playfully, Yoruichi grinning back at Rangiku over her shoulder. She gave her partner a thumbs-up, flashing a pink-painted fingernail covered in whorls and patterns.

It was exactly the sort of cliched comment that would have made Ichigo roll his eyes under any other circumstances... It conjured up thoughts of trashy bitches who needed male attention for validation.

But it was hard to hate the words dripping from Rangiku's mouth, or the way Shihōin squatted down and sped up her gyrations, until her ass-bouncing looked less like a dance than ever. She looked one barked command away from slipping those tight pants off, dropping thong, and spreading her pink little slit right in the middle of her most dangerous period. Somehow this animal in heat had managed to disguise itself as the usually calm, cool and capable Yoruichi Shihōin.

He wanted to find it all laughable. But it was hard when it was these two. [i]He [/i]was hard, looking at these two. Matsumoto and her dark-fleshed friend were some of the most intelligent and enticing gals he'd ever met, women he'd always imagined as beyond his grasp. They felt too much of a handful compared to sensible, kind-hearted Rukia. Wild women through and through, they burned through men like tissue paper... and yet, here they were, acting like... [i]this[/i]. He felt like he was seeing something he wasn't supposed to: two of the strongest pillars of Soul Society laughing and flaunting their bodies. 

Craziest of all, they were doing it for him. 

The end of the short video was the real treat. That heated hussie, Rangiku, was having so much fun toying with Ichigo and his horny cock, she shook with laughter... causing the camera clasped in her hand to bobble about with her chuckling. 

That little action alone showed Ichigo that the camera wasn’t giving him the whole story: he heard her cute, impish laughter, but with each snigger from the blonder-than-blonde faux-bimbo beauty, her colossal mammaries rippled gently, smooth as the surface of a lake. Matsumoto’s chuckles spreading all the way through her chest, bouncing it like only soft, natural, and enormous breasts could.

And when she was done filming, the little device went right down her top. The blonde buxom babe thrust it deep into the depths of her little green bikini bra, down into the left cup with the video still playing.

She tapped the screen to end the the video, but not before Ichigo got a glimpse of something he wouldn't be forgetting any time soon; for all her play at being a wild party girl, those pale white titties of the Lieutenant were capped by the darkest, thickest, and most mature pair of brown nipples Ichigo had ever seen. This close, with the nub thrust against the phone's camera, he saw every little crinkle of those hardening nubs. They looked ready for a pair of lips to wrap around them...

His, or his baby's.

Yoruichi and Rangiku both looked way too good. They were begging for him to come join them... He had to go.

But... Rukia... 

\---

Ichigo watched the video again. This time, he forced himself to look anywhere but those heaving bouncing, hypnotizing tits... he scanned the background of the shot, ignoring the buxom ebony and ivory melons. He looked towards the shadows... and almost broke his phone when he saw what was waiting back there. 

[i]Men[/i]. Dozens of them, way too many of them. And to a man, all those thieving jackals were hungrily looking on at the two young women trying to draw Ichigo in with the most base of seduction techniques. It ticked Ichigo off. 

Did they even have the faintest idea what sort of cheap, dirty teasing Matsumoto and Yoruichi used to lure him in? The way they were acting right now would make a feminist have a heart attack, but those greedy fucks thought they had an “in” over Ichigo? He wasn’t even [i]at[/i] the club and he had a better chance of getting his long, bare pole hilted inside either - or [i]both [/i]- of those sluts than any one of those limpdicks did.

Something about that made Ichigo's cock stand up just a little harder, and get a little angrier. His cute li'l male hindbrain simply insisted that those tits were his. He [i]deserved [/i]to go down there, slap his hands on those big bitch asses they were always waggling around Soul Society, and show those other guys who the big-dick bull was around here. 

In the end, a taste of competition and the risk of denial was all it took for Rukia to pop clean out of Ichigo’s mind. He told himself he might not be planning to pound either of those sleaze-queens until they moaned... but the thought of some random schlub doing it instead of him made him livid.

Wife temporarily forgotten, Ichigo was on the warpath. He was straining the front of his pants as he made his way to his two beauties' little electronica love nest. He told himself he’d just spend a little while catching up with Yoruichi and Matsumoto, maybe take a few risqué pics together... and once that was over he’d be off for a star-crossed romance with Rukia! 

Nothing could go wrong. Ichigo absolutely would not be led astray from the love of his life. Even if she was flat. And had the ass of a 10-year-old boy. 

And hadn’t given him a child yet.

\---

The Soulburner was one of the biggest underground Clubs in Japan, coming with a well-deserved reputation for sleaze and debauchery. On the street level it looked much the same as any of the other buildings around it... but Ichigo knew well once he was inside and descending, he’d enter a world of depravity undreamt of by the regular people of Japan.

Ichigo quickly bypassed the bouncer, a sultry dark-haired woman with near coal-black skin. 

Inside, it sweltered, and stank with the pungent bodily odors of sweat and sex. 

He reached the top of a long flight of stairs overlooking the club... and stopped when he laid eyes on a vast sea of hundreds of bodies, a murky shifting mass that stretched off into the distance. All of them sought nothing more than sin, perversion, and mindless pleasure.

Cramped and uncomfortable, the club was exactly what Ichigo would have expected from a nasty dive like this. It was a place where women were reduced purely down to their physical assets, meat for men to hoot and holler over like horny apes. It was only natural a place like this would draw in a pair of sweaty hoodrat skanks like Yoruichi and Matsumoto. 

Ichigo steadied himself on the golden bannister leading down and looked on, feeling a knot tighten in his gut. After a few moments of silent, awed staring, he snapped his gaze toward something else, anything else. In his search for more pleasant sights, he soon realized the majority of the crowd were circling around a central stage area. 

The stage itself was dominated by an immense dark pillar that ran up to the ceiling, encircled by dozens of smaller stripper poles laid out along numerous catwalks. And those poles were [i]thoroughly [/i]occupied by some of the most obscenely-dressed dancers he’d ever seen. Each had two to four busty bitches slithering and grinding away on it, oiled and supremely-large badonkadonks twerking up and down, bouncing like only the thickest of fleshy booties could. It was only there, past the crowd, that he found his marks.

Ichigo gulped, braced himself for the sweat and heat to come, and dove right in.

The path Ichigo took down to the club was lined with dancing honeys, girls either grinding in cages or using their elevated positions to jam their asses directly at him. The music thumped in his ears as he dazedly stumbled from between the cheeks of one bouncing ass to the next, catching glimpses of couples making out. Drinks flowed freely every which way he looked. 

Ichigo finally made it to the bar and tried to suck in a big gulp of fresh air... only to receive what tasted like pure humidity. He dragged the heat down into his lungs all the same - which turned out to be a terrible, terrible idea. Exhausted, he leaned back against a wall, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

Had coming here been a mistake? This was exactly the sort of club he wouldn’t dare visit under normal circumstances. Any one of those trollops trotting around on that dance floor, swaying their big hips like horny animals, had enough sexual appetite to drain a guy like him a dozen times over. The bitches who came here only wanted to play with rising, twitching cocks, and they didn't mess around; the club dripped with sex. 

The sleazy divas here would go straight from whispering “Hiiii~” and bumping their giant teats up on men... to grinding on their dicks for hours. 

But Ichigo knew dicks weren’t the only thing the girls were here for. Goodness no, a few wiggles and some short, sharp strokes would ensure those honeys had droves of new sugar daddies to play with... and to bankroll their very expensive drug habits! Smothering said daddies under platinum blonde tresses as they slithered on their poles was just the icing on the cake, and the cocaine-dust on the tits.

All of this combined to totally make it one of the best places in the whole world! It was a wonder Ichigo couldn't see that. At least his cock seemed to understand it, judging by the way his pants suddenly felt so super-duper extra-tight.

Still, it wasn't like there wasn't going to be [i]plenty [/i]of time for the stuffy boy to come around to the delights of it all. Ichigo might have been meaning to get back to his wife sometime today, but maybe the girls could convince him otherwise? A few persuasive words here and there should be all it took to have him undertaking a thorough education in everything a developing sex-fiend ever needed. Drugs and pot, powerful alcoholic drinks to make one reach out for warm bodies, pounding thug rap and pumping dubstep... and dancing under hot, sweaty lights. It was the best place for these underdressed bodies to move until they dripped with sweat. 

And it went without saying that these were the ideal conditions for “something else”, too. Poor, child-deprived Ichigo... It stung his heart to remember that places like this were perfect for making bellies swell with newly-made burdens. How many empty-headed bucks had wandered in here for a night of fun... only to end up leaving a present in some random girl’s womb? Sometimes they didn’t even know their names.

Wasn’t it unfair to Ichigo that he was stuck at home with his wife - desperately trying for that son or daughter he wanted - while places like this overflowed with irresponsible and promiscuous girls? Girls who jumped at the chance to be subjected to bed-busting fucking over and over, no matter how large and round their bellies grew? Shouldn’t he be allowed just a little taste of this breeding ground, too?

If Ichigo had a chance at it, he’d be sorely tempted to get on board with it. He could more than happily be just another full set of nuts and a long, hard dick for them, put to work on breeding trashy bitches. He might just start to believe any old excuses those grinning girlies made about why he couldn’t, or just plain shouldn’t, use a condom. Deep in the heart of this villainous pit of succubi, without any wifely supervision present, it might not take much to convince him at all.

If only Rukia had been there to guide him! 

But she wasn’t. 

So she was gonna be sucking the taste of other girl’s pussies off his cock later. 

... If Ichigo cheated, that was. Which he totally wouldn’t!

Ichigo struggled to clear his head, reminding himself again that he shouldn’t be here. Yes, he definitely shouldn’t be. What he [i]should [/i]be doing was walking out that door, leaving, and finding his wife before something bad happened... And, as he refocused his thoughts, the poor guy actually found himself wondering why he was even here in the first place yet again. He must have gone crazy; he didn’t go out for random breeding hook-ups where he frantically squirted out all his pent-up frustration into any pussy he could find. That wasn’t the sort of man Ichigo was!

But then he remembered exactly why he [i]was [/i]here. This wasn’t just any old casual hook-up. Nope, not at all!

Girls... Rather, [i]women[/i] like Matsumoto and Yoruichi weren't to be denied. When those two called you out for a stop-off on your way somewhere, even your one-year anniversary with your wife, you listened. Their tits had a magnetic pull, and if those big bouncing orbs wanted him here, there were no questions about it. Any protests he might try to voice would only be drowned out by another bounce from The Girls. 

Ichigo had come here, not for just [i]one [/i]of the baddest bitches in the Soulburner, but [i]two [/i]of them. Both powerful women in their own right, superhuman and very cheeky bad girls with all-natural bodies fit to bursting out of their clothes.

Now that was a nice thought. That really [i]stroked [/i]off that ego of his fit to bursting. There were so many men he’d normally be envious of out there on the floor: big muscular studs and alpha bulls, the lot of them. The thought he was gonna be swatting those two big bums in front of a crowd like that, with soooo many men thirsting for the perfect pussies, brought out very distinctly masculine instincts in Ichigo. Instincts neglected during his time with the demure and ladylike Rukia. 

Because, while Rukia was every part the perfect Japanese wife, restrained and quietly supportive of her man, Rangiku and Miss Shihōin were more like animals. [i]Especially [/i]when compared to her. Where penetrating her with that long, broad cock of his ended in her letting out whimpers of pain and gripping his arms, those uncouth women would throw their heads back and moan his name. They’d howl like depraved beasts and shake their hips seeking pleasure.

He might have been able to resist the other women down here at the Soulburner, but those two could have anything they wanted from him. With just a few short sways of their chests, they could leave Ichigo breathless and eager to obey.

His mind swam to thoughts of himself on his back, leering bitches with rolling eyes and crooked grins perched over him, spreading swollen and meaty pussy-lips apart to gulp his cock down to the thick root. He was halfway through thinking about those two bitches kissing him and each other, suctioning the taste of each other’s pussies off his dick and washing it down with hard liquor... when Ichigo felt himself dragged back to reality. For some time now, there had been a troubling sensation of an entirely different perverted club throbbing away between his legs.

It felt so big and hard and horny! He needed to find those bitches fast! 

\---

Ichigo reached the bar and turned away from it, putting his elbows up in-between the drained glasses and beer stains. He concentrated on sifting through the sea of bodies for any sign of his two friends. 

It should be easy enough to find them... The unfairly-large swell of Matsumoto's chest, and the fertility goddess bumps of Yoruichi's dark buttflesh bulging out of her yoga pants were two of the biggest and best landmarks a horny stud could be looking for.

But wouldn’t he know it? The poor boy had been in such a state this whole time that he hadn’t even noticed Yoruichi danced right in front of him. Ichigo only noticed her when he finally got his heart to stop pounding in his chest. His racing brain slowed down a little bit, and he was able to finally separate the bright from the dull. Like an optical illusion slowly coming together for the untrained eye, Ichigo laid his long overdue eyes on that bouncing black booty.

Yoruichi was up on one of those miniature stage, gyrating in a primitive mating call, for anyone who wanted to answer it.

She wore the exact same outfit as before, but it looked soooo much better here than it did on his phone: a massively-overburdened cut-off top straining on her big black tits, and cut-out spandex white yoga pants. The stone-cold fox had also stepped into a pair of green platform high-heels. They were so glossy and shiny it was as she’d been wrapped in tight, shiny plastic.

Ichigo had missed her in his white-knuckled sex-panic, but now he had all time in the world to properly take her in. Right before his eyes the colossally-curved bitch - so big and round and plump she made even the most sensational curves look flat and dull in comparison - sauntered right up to one of the club’s stripper poles and took hold of it. She rolled her mammoth hips in slow, lazy circles. 

Yoruichi clasped the pole nice and tightly as she locked eyes with her horny, helpless beau. There was no doubt about it: that black bitch knew exactly what she was doing, and the torture and torment she was putting all those dicks through. Judging by the way she squirmed, drooled and pinched her eyes half-shut, it was making the trashy sow’s cunt leak and drip, too.

This was the real Yoruichi. The woman who acted so cool and professional at Soul Society was just a front for this trashy bitch, with the her deep pussy and shitty morals, pointing her big fat ass at hooting and hollering men, swaying it enticingly from side to side.

How many times had she been professionally outlining some important strategy or new order for her allies, while secret fantasies about getting her thick dark pussy filled with cream played behind her eyes?

Soon, the pulse of the beat shifted from dirty rap to rapid-fire wubs, driving all those hormone-hypnotized dancers to move faster. Racks of spotlights illuminated the stage, soaking nubile bodies in green and pink lights. Yoruichi twerked and bounced faster. 

With fingers still tightly gripping the steel pole, the diva lowered her body into a squat, flaunting that plump booty at Ichigo. Sweat beaded on her body as she rode it up and down, each gyration flicking the droplets across her splendid form and out into the crowd. She became another victim to the oppressive, pounding music engulfing the entire club: giving one of the fittest bodies in Soul Society one of the hardest workouts it had ever experienced... short of what would be involved in conceiving Ichigo’s child deep in her lush, fertile belly.

Faced with all that big black ass, Ichigo’s pale dick twitched and tensed in his pants. It cried out for miscegenation. 

When she came back up the pole, pistoning her hips every step of the way, Yoruichi lashed her tongue over her lips. She looked on at Ichigo with full knowledge she’d been caught acting like a bitch in heat. She laughed, more than content to ride it out.

Little by little, Yoruichi smothered the steel completely between her melons. When she was fully pressed up against the bar, she kicked one of those long legs up and out, fully extending the pointed toe of her high heels. She closed one leg around the stripper pole, then lifted the other off the ground. 

She suspended herself in mid-air. Both hands around the pole, both legs entirely raised.

With thighs still locked together around the shiny steel, Yoruichi leeeaaaned back. She stretched her arms out, swinging her head all the way down. A less athletic woman might have lost her grip immediately, but the Shinigami had a natural talent for this sort of display. Stripshows came naturally to her.

Yoruichi undulated her upper body in waves, gyrating for the horny Japanese bull across the club from her. Her purple hair swung around her shoulders, while those fat black titties wobbled atop her sternum. Unable to look away, Ichigo’s brain succumbed to the constant barrage of sexual imagery. 

Maybe if he’d had had a few more minutes to himself, he would have overcome his initial shock and sauntered on over to that stage... although whether it would be to haul Yoruichi off that pole or bend her over in front of it was anyone’s guess. 

But in the end, he didn’t get the opportunity. He was in such a state of near-panic that when Rangiku Matsumoto came strolling right down the centre of the club towards him, he didn't see her until she was right on top of him. The thick bitch huffed greetings in his ear... Sticky, hot, needy sounds more like guttural growls than anything like a “hello”.

She was a thirsty girl after all, itching for a taste of married man. Hoping to hop into a lap.

As much as he could have stared at Yoruichi’s idolatry-inviting display all day long, heart thumping and blood boiling, Ichigo found his eyes dragged down to something much more soothing: Matsumoto’s gentle, pale curves. The bitch’s ripe female thickness [i]flooded [/i]her bulging green bikini-top, to say nothing of her tight blue jean-shorts. He noted they missed the top button, and had the zipper half-down. Those miniscule shorty-shorts looked glossy and bulging on the model-like girl’s enormous lower half, small enough to do nothing to hide the sinful high-leg thong crawling up her childbearing hips to finally encircle her waspish-narrow waist. 

While he stared, her hands crawled on his body. She whispered more sweet words, letting out more giggles... and it wasn't long before her hands found their way to that big wine bottle and the chocolates clutched tightly in his hands. 

"Ohhhh, did you get these for me?" giggled Matsumoto, laughing coyly in his face. Even if he hadn't, the expression was as clear in those steamy eyes as it was in her bouncing tits: everything he had that they wanted was theirs now. Before Ichigo knew what was going on, she plucked Rukia’s gifts from his hands, magicking them away to some unknown location.

Matsumoto took his hand, lacing her fingers in his. "Come on, Yoruichi will be dancing for a bit longer... Let’s get ourselves comfy in a private room, mm? Stay close to me," she whispered. "If this crowd carries you off, who knows where you’ll end up, heehee~”

Matsumoto pressed Ichigo to her curvy body and guided him away. 

Well, he still had an hour until he was supposed to meet Rukia... A little more diversion should be fine.


	2. Rangiku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi and Rangiku compel Ichigo to cheat on his wife Rukia! Strong adultery/cuckolding warning!

"And here... we... are~"

Leaving the centre stage of the Soulburner, Matsumoto led Ichigo down an out-of-the-way hall, taking him to an unknown location. Once she had him in front of her, the unrestrained bitch-in-heat blatantly stared at his ass, making no attempts to hide her lust.

They arrived at a small and private VIP booth, where she unceremoniously thrust him down onto a lush red couch. For a moment, he thought she might just be going straight to mounting and mating... until she leaned back and coarsely chug down the last dregs of her beer. 

The interruption granted Ichigo a much-needed pause to take in his surroundings.

He found himself in a private booth at the club’s rear, a little alcove for when guest’s breeding urges got too strong. Soundproofed walls reduced the pounding music of the club outside to a muted rumble.

Compared to what Ichigo had seen of this place so far, it seemed almost classy. Plush red couches, wood panelling... and a mini-fridge and sound system, both well-stocked. And yet somehow, Miss Rangiku didn’t look a spot out of place lazing back in her bikini top and micro-jean shorts. Looking on from the opposite side of the booth, Ichigo found himself being put more in mind of a Hip Hop starlet - apparently one with more than enough cash to spare - than a vengeful Goddess of Death.

The blonde and busty babe leaned over on the couch, reaching out towards the distant sound system. Endless expanses of creamy white breast spilled across the couch’s fat arms, before those giant, pale hooters spilled over, dangling in full indulgent, excessive profile.

With a few very unladylike grunts, Rangiku finally found her target. She tapped the device’s centre, bringing the sleeping stereo to life... Her “unique” tastes in music flooded back to Ichigo’s ears. 

In other words, it was more of that ghetto club music. She really didn’t seem able to get enough of it. 

More to the point, she seemed hooked on the seediness of it. The more hateful the lyrics, the more they focused on enslaving bitches, violent crime, and tearing down the established order, the more that seductive minx bopped her hips along with the beat. 

She seemed to be in love with men who barked like Rottweilers on too-short chains, condoning their actions with twerks and bounces of her bubbly fat ass. She adored those horny and craven beasts.

The music battered down on Ichigo’s brain, keeping the poor boy pliable and suggestive. Looking at her body already found it hard to think looking at that body, and watching her smile every time the lyrics descended into utmost perversity made it even harder.

“Thank you for coming here tonight, Ichigo~” Matsumoto purred. Even as she maintained that soft and playful tone, her hands worked mechanically, zipping through popping the tops on two fresh beers. She thrust one into his hands and then sucked on her own like a pacifier.

Matsumoto seemed about to say something, but the sound system abruptly drew her her attention, where a small screen displayed two huge black ghetto asses shaking up and down. She cooed softly as a big fuckin’ black beast of a man came into the shot, shouting something or other nasty and racist, then promptly upended two bottles of baby oil over those bulbous, shorty shorts-bulging cheeks. He rubbed it in until their butts glistened... until streaks of clear liquid went flying off with the violent force those bitches bounced their asses with!

“Mmmm... That’s... That’s good,” Rangiku murmured. Her eyes remained rooted to the screen as she watched spellbound. She visibly rubbed her thighs together under the table.

Ichigo took a long drink from his beer, sinking down into the comfy red leather of the couch. “So this is what you two normally do on the weekends?”

Matsumoto shifted on the couch. She kicked those long, bare legs up into the air like she might drop down on the table between them. But instead, the bitch threw one leg over the couch’s arm. Her staggeringly tall high-heel dangled in mid-air, idly swinging back and forth, as she sloooowly stretched her other leg out along the plush carpet. 

Ichigo was suddenly glad he was the only boy around. He didn’t want any other man seeing those legs spreading.

The ghetto thug blondie was having the time of her life giving innocent studmuffin Ichigo unimpeded access to stare at her, most of all at the exposed swell of her pussy. Her womanhood was thick and well-developed, just like he knew it had to be, and it made a clear outline of itself in the material of her shorts. Spreading her legs had just made that denim creak and groan as it clung to her skin, stretched to the point where he could see the outline of her labia, and her throbbing button, through the material. 

“Mmhm. Are you surprised?” she asked. She blushed, smiling just enough that he couldn’t read her mood. She could be genuinely interested in his response, or this could just be part of the sharks circling.

The music already stifled logical thought, but the way she smelled put his brain down even moreso. A rich female stink rose off Miss Rangiku in waves. She exuded a thick, womanly scent about her even after her showers, and a few hours gyrating on the dance floor had more than intensified it. Since Ichigo had arrived she seemed to have been finding opportunities to expose him to her scent, whether snuggling into his side, rolling her hips at him, or even just locking a leg around her man of interest and grinding on him until she thoroughly marked him with her scent. 

Now that they were in this booth together, the entire narrow space reeked of an earthy, overwhelming aroma. It stuffed Ichigo’s nostrils, suffused his brain, and sent signals to his big fat nutsack in a way Rukia never had. He placidly luxuriated in the overpowering aroma of the hot bitch opposite him, a woman more than well-developed for bearing children. 

Ichigo laughed. “A... little bit. I mean, you’re nothing like this at Soul Society. A lot of people there look up to you.”

His nostrils flared as he got his first few whiffs of that enticing, womanly musk, causing his delicate nose to wrinkle. "This place kind of stinks, too."

Ichigo drew his shirt up over his nose, trying to catch his breath a little in the face of that hypnotic perfume. It pulled the material up over his belly more than he really wanted to, emphasizing his smooth midriff. But some things were more important than accidentally being eye-candy for some perverted gal. Ichigo’s thighs clenched together as he tried to think of anything other than how sweaty and nasty this club made him feel. 

Opposite him, Matsumoto cracked a big grin. She threw one leg over the other, leaning forwards on her seat. “Mm, come on, Ichigo. You really think the way I act there is the real me? I can’t be professional allll of the time, now can I?” 

Ichigo uncovered his mouth and took a few slow, shallow breaths. The musk wasn't so bad now that he'd gotten used to it. The teasing beauty grinned at his discomfort. “Don’t you ever find yourself wondering everyone else gets up to in their free time? We all have our... hobbies~”

With her drink finished, Matsumoto hopped off the couch and wiggled her way on over to the other side of the room, fetching a set of beers... one for him, three for her. She set his down in front of him, then cracked her own beer, taking a long swig of it. "Don’t you get up to anything naughty in your spare time, Kurosaki?”

This time, when she sat down, Matsumoto cut right to the chase. She sat down on the couch beside Ichigo, one of those slender hands of hers beginning to rub up and down his thigh as she worked on sucking down her beer into that bottomless belly of hers. “Mm, not really...” he said. “Ever since me and Rukia started, ah, trying for a baby, uh...”

He gulped. “... It’s been taking up a lot of our time. It’s stressful.”

That full head of luscious blonde hair tilted in his direction slightly. At this angle, all he could just make out was the banks of her thick eyelashes, and her glossy, pink lips pursed most pensively. That look really made them pop; they looked thicker and juicier than ever. She plunged her top row of teeth into the dimpled bottom lip, working it as she thought.

“Still no baby? Haven’t you two been trying for over a year now? Heh~” She worked her fingertip in slow circles on the material of his jeans. “Shiiiit... Mm, you know, you don’t exactly look like the kind of guy with a broken dick, either.”

Ichigo huffed, watching her pink fingernail drawing slow circles on it. Where his leg was directly under her hand, the skin was prickling. “Hff... It’s not me.” He felt embarrassed when Matsumoto tensed up, leaning away from him slightly. Looks like he’d spoken much more forcefully than he’d meant to.

But as soon as it appeared on her face, that look of consternation vanished, and she was all the way back to one of her impish smiles. “Mmhmhm... My my, someone’s very defensive of his masculinity.”

She leaned forwards, pushing that child-feeding bosom more firmly into his side. “If anything, you look like you could knock up any girl you wanted~”

“Mm. Yeah...” Ichigo groaned, resisting the urge to seize her right then and there. “It’s just...”

Matsumoto cut him off before he could finish his sentence. While the fingers of her right hand were still busily crawling from his knee all the way up to his thigh, and higher, she was directing him like a stage magician with her other hand. She traced the fingertips of her left hand around her belly button in a slow circle, touching the skin with as much reverence as if it were the cute cleft between her thighs. She shuddered, long legs kicking once or twice... “Mmm...” Where her fingers trailed, she lightly scratched the soft flesh of her belly just enough to leave a trail of red. “If only someone else could donate some eggs...”

She almost completely hid her hand under the two colossal swells of her Fertility Goddess titties. It made staring down there hard, and he was grateful when she drew his attention back to her face. 

The Shinigami pursed her lips, looking up at him. “Surely a guy like you knows someone who’d volunteer for that task, mm? I wonder...”

“Ahh... Yeah, um, maybe.” This was the part of the night, Ichigo realized, where he should be saying something to the effect of, “It’s been nice catching up to you, but I should really be going.” The point where he finally realized he was sitting on a couch in a private booth with a promiscuous Hellcat feeding him beer after beer while stroking his ego. Not only was he keeping his wife waiting, but things were getting more and more steamy with the half-undressed Matsumoto. Her hand was hand honestly just a few more inches away from giving the bulging, straining crotch of his pants a coy little squeeze, and it seemed like it was only a matter of time now until she was gently pushing him down onto his back, climbing into the saddle, and enclosing his erection in a tight wall of muscles that would make him feel so, so good. 

It wouldn’t just be the pleasure of being milked. He’d feel good as a man as well. They didn’t make women more fertile than Rangiku Matsumoto, and Ichigo would finally be able to fire his hyper-virile, impregnating seed into a womb where it would actually take root, instead of just being... washed out again by an inhospitable system. After an entire year of blasting litres of jizz into a womb as fertile as a pocket pussy, the thought of burying himself in something sooo much more warm and receptive had him rooted in his seat next to that broodmare, when he should have been racing out of the club.

Ichigo was being a bad boy. Thankfully for him, bad boys got to play with bad girls. They got to breed the fuck out of bad girls.

“I... umm... I’m not sure, really,” Ichigo continued, eyes dropping to her breasts and thighs again. She saw him staring, and licked her lips.

“You know what you need~?” she asked coyly, drawing another circle on his leg. “I know juuuust the thing to calm you down, stud.”

She grinned up at him, teeth flashing pearly white. Matsumoto ran her hands across the little table in front of them, scooping up some stray little object Ichigo didn’t quite recognize. 

Matsumoto handled a small, white, hand-rolled tube. The way she saw it, it was loaded with everything this square needed to unwind and unload: meant for that blonde slut's pouty, red-smeared cockpillows, she now wanted to see how it looked crammed between his lips instead.

Joint in hand, Matsumoto turned into Ichigo, laying her body across his on the couch. Now less than an inch of space remained between her bouncing bust and his hard muscles. Her melons glistened prettily under a light coating of her sweat. "Ichigo, this is weed. You haven’t had it before, right?”

She placed it between her own lips to show him how it was done, then handed it over. An indirect kiss. “I think a few puffs will help take the edge of your mood, yeah? I insist..."

Before he could raise any protests, Matsumoto leaned closer, bringing those breasts to rest. She fell forwards mashing her body against his firm chest, oodles of creamy flesh spilling over his body. 

Her smell was intoxicating, and her touch just heightened it.

Ichigo found himself dazed in the presence of two equally-tempting drugs, the one in her hand and the two growing on her chest. Matsumoto took the opportunity to move in. She laid her other hand across his body, preventing him from rising. She grazed her fingers down his lower back, then onto his ass. “Mmm. Ichigo~”

She took a big fistful of his ass in her hungry grip, holding him tight. That certainly made Ichigo’s eyes pop! He raised his hands to try and push her away, but there just wasn’t any room. She was right on top of him.

"Here... Try it,” the saucy Shinigami cooed in his ear.

While she continued to grope and squeeze his ass with one hand, Rangiku stuffed the joint into his mouth with the other. She appeared to materialize a cigarette lighter in her hand from thin air, and the cheeky girl immediately had its tip ablaze. She began the process of getting marijuana smoke down into Ichigo’s lungs. "Suck on it... Suck-suck-suck..."

Rangiku giggled, giving Ichigo a saucy look both beguiling, and a little sympathetic too! It was like she could feel how plump and fat up his nuts were, and how desperate those adultery-craving seedpods were to unload huge gooey waves of cum inside every fertile girly in sight. “Hey... I have an idea~” she purred.

From under that swathe of blazing-golden hair, the beauty puckered up soft and kissable lips, smacking that wetly together. “How about every time you take a suck up here... I give you a suck down there~? I can make up for all the pleasure that frigid wife of yours hasn’t been giving you.”

If Ichigo heard that last part, he didn’t respond... he was muuuch too busy rapidly sucking down the hot roll-up of weed. And fast, too. Once it sat between those lips of his, the joint was as good as vanished, happily puffed down so fast the lit end reached the tips of Rangiku’s fingers.

The beauty recoiled with a gasp, then sucked her sizzled fingers one by one. “Oof. You’ve got an appetite. Bad boy...”

With each inhale, Ichigo’s already-limited struggling against her got a little slower... and much more clumsy! In no time at all, they looked more like a pair of snuggled-up lovers than a seductress and her prey, and rightly so. A body like that deserved to be loved right.

She recoiled slightly, sitting back. It was all the opportunity Ichigo needed to wriggle out from under her, shifting sideways on the couch. "Ugh.. What the fuck were you..." 

"God, Rangiku... I’m fucking married...” Ichigo groaned, holding his head. She watched him apprehensively, a coy smile on her face. 

When Ichigo next opened her eyes, they were stained with tell-tale blotchy red, the sign he was well on the way to his first high. “You’re supposed to be my wife’s friend.”

“Can’t you... nnnh... can’t you think of anything except fucking me?" It seemed like getting Ichigo high had loosened that foul mouth of his. "My head is pounding... and it's your fault. And I'm hungry."

Ichigo leaned forwards on the couch, head hanging, until his eyes alighted on the beer she’d set out earlier. "Don’t you have any fucking food or anything? If you’re going to try to fucking rape me, you could at least feed me first..."

He raised the bottle to his lips, taking a quick swig. He almost spat it out in disgust straight away. "Ugh! This is fucking nasty.." 

But evidently it wasn’t nasty enough to stop him drinking. Ichigo sampled the beer again, then again. Soon, he was taking larger and larger swallows. “Nn...”

Realizing the second half of the joint had slipped free from his mouth, Ichigo soon found himself looking about for it. He eventually found it, still lit, down between his shoes, and his eyes absolutely sparkled when he did. "Gotta pick these up," he muttered slyly, leaning down to grab it. The second it was back in his hands, he was directing the smoking bud back between her lips. 

"That's a fire hazard. Surprised you haven't burned down this whole place yet, crazy bitch.” In his head, the sneaky comment had seemed perfect for making the Lieutenant scoff and splutter, but it had a lot less bite to it when he said it 1) in-between puffs, and 2) while staring directly at the blonde’s large, oh-so-natural breasts. 

God they were big. A boy shouldn’t be getting progressively more high around a rack like that, he’d eventually reach a tipping point where he wanted them all over his face, burning his cheeks, sapping his will, grinding up and down until he was dazed and confused. Just a big, fat erection with a helpless boy on the end, really. 

“Just loooook at them!” his addled mind howled at poor Ichigo, and look he did! Each wobbling orb straining her skimpy top out from the inside was larger than Ichigo’s entire head... looking on and on, all he could think about was diving his face between them and letting himself he swallowed up by breasts. Just a neck jutting out from between that silky, sweat-laced pair, head fully immersed in the sea of Rangiku’s melons. Would any boy be able to resist that kind of handling? It seemed extremely unlikely.

In the end, Ichigo just gave up. Taking a long drag from the roll of weed, Ichigo exhaled, and let his head fall back amidst the couch cushions. He was finally growing more and more relaxed. 

Well, didn't he look nice now? He seemed a lot more approachable now, lazin' back on the club’s couch, with a cheap beer in one hand and a smoking joint in the other... unconsciously wigglin' along to those dirty thug beats. It was a textbook case of the moment right before a bitch - female or male - ended up in the bed of someone they really shouldn’t have, spreading legs and getting ovulating pussies crammed to the brim with giant, hard dicks. Wife? What wife? There was only bareback fucking with big-titties sluts going on hereabouts.

Ichigo glared at her as she got down on the couch next to him, leaning over oh-so predictably to get her fingers on that joint again, keeping it in his mouth. Soon, Matsumoto was leaned so far over Ichigo she was practically perched on him. 

With one arm around his shoulders, she kept the weed held firmly against his lips as she talked him through sucking on it. She was a good instructor, and under her tutelage he’d soon gone from red-eyed and coughing up lungfuls to being able to fill his lungs up, and hold the smoke inside for a good five to ten seconds... He had to take periodic breaks to sip from his beer, but two joints later and Ichigo was certifiably High as Fuck. 

Ichigo knew he should resist her, but it was just so much easier to go along with the flow. He felt so good and relaxed, and smoking her weed grew more calming by the moment, keeping him in a daze. "This is wrong..." he muttered, giving the immense blonde a half-hearted push. It was really hard for Ichigo to think when so much woman piled up on him. 

He just needed a moment to clear his head.

"Slut... Can't.. Can't keep your hands off a married man, can you? So fuckin' predictable.." It was hardly appropriate behaviour for him, but maybe it was nice to cut loose every once in a while.

"Hey, Ichigo... Wanna see me dance?” How's about I show off for you while you roll us another joint, alright?" She could only mean booty-shaking. 

Under her guidance, Ichigo trailed his fingers along her tits, hand steadily moved his hand to more and more risque locations. He was getting to grips with that Heavensent Angel body. Pretty soon his hand strayed between her legs, lightly grazing her pussy over and over. “Like... Like what? What are you planning, huh?”

"Mm, like this." The seductress, the bitch here to breed, flicked the TV on. She grinned at her buck past the screen’s garish glow.

Ichigo’s gaze fell upon the television screen as she turned it on, and he found himself immediately assaulted by offensive, racist images. Huge-assed black women shook their bodies, dressed like whores and skanks and worse. Angry black men spat offensive lyrics about shooting cops, raping whores... It was all so crude, so violent, and very dangerous. The sight of rows of black women flaunting their assets like strippers turned Ichigo’s usually-pure thoughts into fertile grounds for perversion. 

"That's... Ugh...” Ichigo said, trying to keep his eyes off those animal gyrations. “I can’t believe you like this..." In his drug-addled mind, Ichigo didn’t seem able to comprehend just how hypocritical he acted. He’d laced his arms all the way around Rangiku’s body, groping and fondling her slutty curves. He slammed others for their sex appeal, while completely surrendering to hers.

He also totally didn't notice, or didn't want to notice, how much of a raging boner this all gave him. His cock pitched a tent in his pants so ferocious it was thoroughly outlined, stronger and more powerful than he could ever remember it being. Oops~

"I hate it..." he grouched lazily. "Fuckin' shitty music..." Yet despite his foul language, Ichigo still consciously moved along to it.

Rangiku didn’t stifle his outbursts, she enjoyed them. The more riled up he got, the more fierce he’d get. And with her most fertile period well upon her, she wanted to see Ichigo acting like nothing more than a rutting, horny brute. 

The in-heat bitch actually took two seconds out of lusting for his spunk to the screen with a shiny painted fingernail. "There... That’s it. That’s a twerk. Want to see me do that?”

She sat up on the couch, her coy smile getting even bigger, even more sneaky. “I bet you do... And you can keep puffing the whole time I’m up, alright?” 

As much as Ichigo would have liked to deny it, he couldn’t find the words. This wild club, the heavy bass blasting, and Rangiku’s mind-altering substances had him reeling. His heart was pounding in his chest, his brain turning to more and more basic animal urges. Ichigo found himself tapping her feet along with the beat as he watched Rangiku moving her upper body from side to side in a way that made her fat breasts wobble ever-so slightly. 

“Come on... You wanna see me dance, right~? You wanna see my big tits bouncing up and down... Y - *hic* You can’t keep your eyes off 'em, right?”

Rangiku spread her fingers across her bikini top, sinking the tips deep into that plush cleavage. She hefted her bosom up on her chest, pancaking them across her solar plexus, swallowing up chest, shoulders... even her neck behind those immense, swollen milkers. All it needed was the clanging of a cowbell and a sweet, soft moo leaving the moist, slippery lips of her mons-like mouth. 

“All the boys at Soul Society wanna grab these realllll bad. Too bad for them there’s only one boy I want sandwiched in here, mm?” 

She looked up at him, tossing her hair and leaving most of her face swathed in sheets of blonde. “Do you like my fat tits, Ichigo? They’d be even fatter if some hunk got a kid in me. Mmmn, too bad birth control makes my allergies play up~"

Rangiku glanced away, chewing her upper lip, smirking through slitted eyes. Allergies! What allergies? Her allergies to bare-dicked sex, maybe!

The bitch rose from the couch, one slinky kick of her hips at a time. She ended up standing over him on top of the little table, high heels clacking dangerously on the glass surface. He watched, spellbound, as she began to remove her shorts.

The button on the front popped open easily enough for her. From there she slid her hands down to the crotch, unzipping her zipper in the process. She began gently stroking the tucked-away mound of her pussy. 

Between those curvy thighs of hers, Rangiku’s pussy drooled with so much arousal any nearby dicks could have gone balls-deep on the first thrust. She was dripping.

The wannabe hood-rat wore a bright-green thong much the same as the the fat-assed bitches on the screen beside her. Albeit, while those were shiny, black and lean, Rangiku’s booty was much more pale and fat. Each kick of her hips came with some serious wobble: her badonk was the real deal. 

Rangiku pulled her tight jean shorts down her legs, revealing inch after inch of her smooth, milky thighs and her big, fat ass. "There... You have to be happy now, mm? Does this make your dick hard?" 

No matter how much Ichigo wanted to deny it, he wanted her. He was no better than those objectifying men in those videos. 

He was an animal. And when an animal - even one already taken - found himself in the presence of a superior mate, he would subconsciously encourage her to entice him.

To tease Ichigo into properly rutting her, that meant Rangiku had to shed her dignity like that tight pair of shorts and shake her naked ass in a crude mimicry of the women on the television. She might not be the best at it, but with as much assmeat as her, he found himself able to forgive it. 

"Y - *hic* You like this? A stud like you must have countless bitches offering to bounce in your lap, mm?" she teased, looking over her shoulder at him. It looked like the longer he stared at booty-bouncing bitch, the more Ichigo’s wires got crossed... In his foggy-headed drug haze, she looked sooo good to him. He watched those lusciously large, lips of her’s wrap around every syllable of her shameless praise, caressing his ego with her tongue like a raunchy lover. He got steadily more and more erect. Soon, he was so stiff it hurt just to look directly at her.

But that was what pussies were for, weren’t they? Helping take the ache out of a dick. When a man’s fat rod got so hot and steamy he couldn't handle it anymore, he could always put that fire out by dippin' deep into a cool, snug womb. If he drove into her now, Ichigo's dick would probably steam and hiss on contact. She had him feelin' hot.

And it wasn’t like he got like this with just any girl. He wasn't a total animal, despite what she was saying... Nuh-uh, it was Miss Matsumoto alone that was driving Ichigo to cheat and breed. With every bounce of the thick whooty inches from his nose, she was as good as sealing his fate. Every time her ass shook, and every time that top-shelf Shinigami ho teased him a little more with her fertility, he got a little closer to putting her ankles behind her head and doin' what men did best.

"Look at me, Ichigo... Look at my fat ass bouncing~ 10th Division Lieutenant Matsumoto... is shaking her ass like a slut!"

Rangiku stamped the sound system’s remote with her high-heeled boot, and the music suddenly changed on him. It was going harder, faster. Pulse-bounding beats that coaxed her to twist her hips even faster.

Now she had him! Rangiku started tightening her ass in time with the beat, bouncing her booty on top of her thighs... With her stripped down to just her thong, and the band jammed deep up her sweaty, fat crack, Ichigo could see everything... every inch of those waves of undulating flesh. He leaned closer, tongue stretching out so close he could have licked the moisture dripping down her ass clean off. And he wanted to. Right now he would have lived off this bitch's twerk-juices.

“Spank it, Ichigo! Come on... I’m being a bad girl... Huhuhu... I’m trying to make you cheat, you know! So spank me!”

With her hands on her knees, and that filthy head of long blonde hair plastered to her back with sweat, Matsumoto bounced her glistening ass up and down for Ichigo. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand shot up of its own accord, wavering over that pristine white flesh untouched by male hands. She should be glad he couldn’t see the pathetic, cock-crazed look on her face as she howled again: “Hit it hard! Punish meeee~”

Her words, and her impure body, possessed Ichigo’s mind and heart. His hand came down on her fleshy thick ass with a crack and a slap, leaving a bright red hand-print. "Faster, bitch!" He heard his own voice, but it sounded faraway and distant.

Now that was what she’d really been craving! Rangiku hated herself for fucking her friend’s man, but she couldn't stop. Her cunt fucking clenched with need when that big male hand came down and slapped her bouncing ass. It made her pulse pound and her pussy throb. She wanted to feel his rough touch all over her, groping her body, raping her holes. 

The “dancing” - more an invitation to mate - continued. Give a girl with a fat fucking ass a dope beat to move to and you'll get some entry-level twerking. But give her some motivation, really physically acknowledge those bouncing buttcheeks with gropes and slaps, and you'll get the real deal: two massive mounds of assflesh, bouncing and bumping to a booty-quaking beat. Each movement sent a ripple through those bubbly pale cheeks. This was what it was all about. He tried to imagine Rukia doing what Rangiku was doing now, twisting her small, flat butt to the beat, and mentally transposed it against this giga-ghetto ass... The idea seemed laughable. Rangiku’s twerking couldn’t be beat.

And it was only getting better. Now that that fat-assed bitch had the prospect of big, cheating dick all up in her cunt, Rangiku was just moving her booty even faster, getting more vulgar in her language. 

"That's it, you fucking hung stud, look at my fat fucking ass! Bet that makes your fucking big dick hard, huh? Mmm, God, I want it soooo bad!" Rangiku couldn't stop shaking her ass. It was hypnotic, the beat and the motion got into her head and never left. She worked herself into a twerking frenzy, her nostrils flaring as her sweaty asscheeks clapped together in rhythm. When Ichigo leaned down to lick the sweat off her ass, she pushed back, practically burying his face between her bouncing whooty. The crotch of her panties was fucking soaked, the excess pussy juice blatantly running down the inside of her thighs. She couldn't have hidden it if she tried. 

Fuck Rukia! Fuck all them skinny bitches! That little goody two-shoes kept this dick from her for years! Rangiku spent some of the best years of her life excessively masturbating because that flat-chested little runt hogged the best dick in Soul Society to herself... and she hadn’t even gotten knocked up by it! Now all that pent-up sexual frustration was coming to a head. Rangiku shoved her ass into Ichigo's lap, her panty-class booty bouncing on top of his rock-hard dick. "Come on, you ass! Stick it in already! Rape me!" she hissed, animal fury in her eyes.

Well, there wouldn’t be any need for Rangiku to touch her little pussy, or getting by on smaller cocks, a moment longer now, was there? Watery little pea-shooters were out, and the dicks that got hard for big, bouncing, twerking booties were in. She'd just gotten prime pussy-access to the biggest, thickest piece of meat she'd ever need, a schlong that made the most sophisticated Shinigami howl like a bitch.

Big hands snaked around her middle. Her bikini top’s lower hem ended up around her neck, and she could only watch as one set of fingers pawed her fat tits like she was cheap meat, and the other raked across her belly. He applied pressure to her stomach, making her go nuts as he held her down firmly and massaged her... and stimulated her womb. It felt so ripe and oozing with fecundity, like a swollen fruit ready to be picked, and each needling touch of those big hands felt like it was coaxing her heavenly core to work a little harder, preparing her for the burden she was going to carry. His babies.

Matsumoto could hardly believe it! It was one thing to actually tease Ichigo and expect to get the dick she’d been hangin’ out for, but now things were moving so fast they were almost disorienting. She squirmed in his grasp, hissing vulgar terms as he worked her over with his big, strong hands. He was raw carnality and the very definition of masculinity, and Matsumoto’s feminine side couldn’t help but swoon and coo over his powerful physique. No man had even come this close to inseminating her, and now no other would ever have the chance to. Not now Ichigo had her in his grasp.

Ichigo released her tits to lock his fingers in her hair, dragging her head back to kiss her roughly. With one wide-open eye, Rangiku could just see their reflection out of the corner of her eye, and what a sight it was~ Her: naughty, perverted, unfit for laying with any decent, intelligent man... Him: a good man who loved his wife, driven to the height of perversion by a twerking bitch who couldn’t keep her lower mouth to herself, and was intent on wrapping it all the way around him. Their lips locked together, both kissers ferociously mashing their mouths into one another. Their tongues slapping together, darting around, lashing up big slobbery slurps of each other's thick saliva.

Her breaths came hot and heavy as he kissed her. She shivered as his hungry tongue slithered inside her mouth and coaxed her into reciprocating. Her eyesight grew hazy with lust, only focusing on the mirror image of herself. She rolled her eyes back into her head and stiffened, crying out a moan that was muffled and devoured by her hungry lips as she came, body jerking as hot liquid squirted from her twitching cunt. 

Well...

When Rangiku’s haze cleared, and the kiss was well ended, she was all the way back in Ichigo's lap. Both of them were still facing forwards, with her back on his chest. A solid pole of meat rose up between her thighs, positioned so it might have looked like she was swinging a dick of her own if it wasn't so large and tanned compared to her pale pink flesh. 

As her vision swam back into focus, Rangiku looked closer at the enormous python that snaked up between her thighs. It was shocking. But it had never been a question of whether he'd be bigger than those weak, small dicks they’d passed over so many times, just how much bigger? 

And it was a lot.

"Oh my fucking god," she gasped, eyes wide. She'd heard the rumors about Ichigo’s endowment, of course, but she never thought it was anything more than her fellow Soul Society members trying to shock her. Now that it was right in front of her, she realized every last word of it was absolutely true. 

Ichigo hooked his hands under her knees, lifting her effortlessly. The busty blonde gasped as he lifted her into position, his massive arms threading under her thighs and pinning her legs to her chest. 

Ichigo felt afraid, and excited. He was at a turning point in his life, about to embark down a path of depravity that would permanently change him. There was no turning back now. He went for it, and dragged her thong aside. As he repositioned her, lining her up for deep penetration, her fat cunt-lips smooshed and squished against his shaft all the way up, leaving a slimy trail.

"It's not gonna fit, it's not gonna fit-" she muttered to herself as the bloated head of his fat python pushed up against her drooling pussy lips. Her eyes screwed shut and her lips twisted into a scowl as he pushed against her, that fat head spreading her puffy pussy like a hot knife through butter, pushing harder and harder until...! Rangiku’s eyes popped open and she let out a strangled, gurgling sound. It fit.

Ichigo began working Rangiku back down to the base. In the Full Nelson position, the twerking ghetto bitch Rangiku Matsumoto was like putty in his hands. Soon, he was flexing those beefy arms rhythmically, each pump slithering her up and down on his shaft. He was in complete control. "Mmm... Yeah, you like that...? You like that, fuckin' sow... You wanted it, so here it is... Gonna knock you up... Gonna breed... Hnnn...”

"Ah-!" She cried out as he raised her up and down, her drooling pussy lips slathering every last inch of rigid slut-maker in needy bitch-juice. "What the fuck are you waiting for, you big-dicked bull?! Rape me!"

With their difference in size, he couldn't just get his arms all the way around the thick, thick thighs that came with that first-class whooty... He could reach her head, and he locked his fingers behind her curls now, robbing her of what little ability she had left to defend herself. 

That stud started pumping his arms faster like he was working out, the curvy bitch locked in bondage that came solely from the thick arms of a fit, strong man, yet was as powerful as any number of ropes and leather straps. In a position like this, all she could do was grab onto his forearms and hold on for dear life. 

He pumped her pussy. Up and down, over and over and over, that virile snake slid in and out of her tight little box, stretching her out around that cock like a rubber band. Her belly bulged with each thrust, straining to hold him all in. He worked her in front of her reflection, and she saw his bitch-taming python slithering all the way into her, then back out again with a pop. Over and over.

It felt like an entire fist up inside of her. As he started hamming her tight cunt- inch after inch of rigid dick wearing her vaginal canal like a condom, Rangiku realized something. He'd ruined her. He'd absolutely ruined her for everyone but himself. No one could possibly have a dick as big as him; after he fucked her she would never be able to fuck anyone smaller. She let out a long, low groan as that mammoth dong pushed deeper inside of her, her vision swimming. When he finally bottomed out inside of her, every single inch of that big, hard monster nestled deep inside her tight, white cunt, her eyes rolled back into her head and she came harder than she ever had before.

Bitch juice sprayed from her pussy like a fountain, gushing down and coating Ichigo's churning balls. It was like she was a priestess, anointing his two babymakers in her fluids. As he started pumping her, Matsumoto quickly lost it - all higher cognition replaced with mindless pleasure. Her nerve cells were so overburdened with quantifying every electrifying tingle in her cunt that she straight up couldn't think of anything else. Her tongue lolled from her mouth, her eyes staring drunkenly ahead at her own reflection as he hammered away at her, those angry grunts he spewed from his lips burning into her mind. Bitch.. Knocked Up.. Bred Bitch.. Big Dick... Those and other such words tattooed themselves into her brain while his cock went about claiming her cunt.

Soon Ichigo was grunting and growling in her ear, worked up into a frenzy. "Fuckin' bitch... I’ve had it with your teasing... I hope you get knocked up. I hope you get big and round with babies so everyone can see your tummy bulging like the bred bitch you are." 

He slapped a hand on Rangiku’s belly like a drum. "Mmm, yeah... This is gonna get nice and round..."

She hadn’t even registered that he was getting close, shaking and trembling as he neared his orgasm. Then Kurosaki tensed up, back arching. "Ooooohhhhhh fuuuuuck..." Every drop of seed swimming in his big fat balls rushed to be the first inside his breeding bitch, inseminating her.

Kurosaki held Rangiku tightly, his hips rising up off his couch. His whole body was trembling, and she made the mistake of assuming he was as fucked out as she was. 

But by the time she realized the male was undergoing one of the best, most mind-blowing, and well-deserved orgasms of his life, she was already deep in the throes of his insemination. He slammed his lips against her own, and a molten glob of 100% pure impregnating seed exploded inside the deepest depths of her cunt. 

Ichigo tightened his grip on her, giving her no say in getting away. He lashed her to his body with those beefy biceps and unloading a thick, gooey, and very potent ejaculation into her unprotected puss. 

While her good pal Yoruichi was still dancing outside, Rangiku’s insides were gooped with long, sticky trails of Ichigo’s beastly seed. She was white-washed forcefully with a dozen shotgun blasts of cum that all felt big enough to be their own ejaculation. That low-hanging nutsack of his tightened up, tensing as its bulging eased off a little, all its contents being packed inside Rangiku. 

Worst of all, he kissed her all the way through it, smooching his bitch from start to finish. It was bad of him. It was joined by another, and another as he force-fed shot after shot of white-hot cum inside of her, thoroughly plastering her insides and filling her completely. It made that gooey creampie - an act intended to cement her role as his inferior - more intimate. Spurred on by her vulgar commands to his breaking point, now he seemed fixated on teaching her she was his bitch.

Rangiku’s belly distended, bulging with the sheer volume of seed he was pouring into her. When that mighty dick of his finally fell from her drooling, gaping cunt a few seconds later, it slapped against his thigh with the weight of a real, massively-fat cock coming to rest. It was immediately followed by a waterfall of liquid spooge escaping the gaping, stretched-out cunt. 

For either of them, it was their very first glimpse at the blown-out, well-fucked cunt that had once been a pretty pink pussy. "Uuuu... Fuck, bitch... Mmmm..."

One look at her ruination, and Rangiku Matsumoto promptly fainted.

It didn't last for long. Within seconds she was up, draped across her lover, leaving dozens of sloppy kisses all over his face. His ejaculate felt like it had turned into solid lead inside her womb, like she'd just had a twelve-course meal. All she could do was groan weakly - he had claimed her and tamed her that well. She'd need time before she even felt like moving, or thinking, again.

Ichigo looked well-pleased as he admired his handiwork. He and Matsumoto fucked a few more times in that booth before they got out... it was impossible for the breeder or the bred to stop at just one! More twerking. More fucking. More sucking. By the time they were curled up on the couch together, hours had passed. 

Matsumoto’s attitude was muted. She felt like a candle that had totally burned out - spent, useless, lazy. Exhausted, she wallowed in her sexual gratification... and an unshakable feeling of accomplishment. Of power. Something thrilling, and dirty, and oh-so wrong. 

She presumed that probably came from the fact that she'd just been ruthlessly fucked by another woman’s man. As the two laid on the couch, him holding her close with one single arm, Matsumoto could feel that massive cock of his slung between her legs. 

Ichigo’s cock throbbed against her loose, gaping cunt. She very much liked it there. 

She closed her eyes and rolled onto her back, gently feeling up her cum-bloated stomach. "Ugh.. You really went wild on me, huh?" Her hand travelled lower, between her legs where she began feeling up her gaping pussy lips. 

"Oh fuck..." she muttered, exploring herself. It was like she had a whole new pussy down there, one that had been perpetually stretched out by Ichigo’s member, perma-gooped by his thick seed. She drew her hand back up to find it coated in Ichigo's thick, white seed, and immediately touched her fingers to her mouth and began ravenously lapping it off. "Why does his cum taste so fucking good?" she whined to herself.

After a few minutes of recovery, she managed to sit up. The swelling in her stomach had gone down, and after a few attempts she stood up. Her legs were weak and wobbly, like jell-o, and she couldn't support herself for more than a few steps. The worst part though was her well-fucked stud-claimed cunt - her gaping pussy lips rubbed against each other when she moved her thighs, sending shivers up her spine and thick rivulets of Ichigo's cum down her thighs. 

She turned back to look at Ichigo, picking up a half-finished bottle of booze. She swigged it, tilting her head back and chugging the whole thing down. In her belly, sperm worked its way towards her defenseless eggs. The only thing Rangiku had on, her high heels, clopped loudly as she drunkenly stumbled.

The bottle finished, she wiped her mouth clean. She tossed it to her left, where it explosively shattered against the wall.

She extended a hand to Ichigo. “Come on, stud. Night’s not over.” 

He took her hand, dragged into the embrace of those big, pillowy tatas. “Where are we going?”

“You are going to find Yoruichi... Like, duh.”

Her fingers crawled down to his bare butt, giving it a deep-fingered squeeze, all the way to the knuckles. “I’m not the only bitch around here who wants a piece of this ass.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his face closer to hers. “I’m not the only one in heat, either~”


	3. Yoruichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi and Rangiku compel Ichigo to cheat on his wife Rukia! Strong adultery/cuckolding warning!

Ichigo left the private booth a changed man. A wild beast would have looked more comfortable in the expensive suit he’d picked for tonight. It all felt so stretched to contain his heaving musculature. He kept adjusting a collar that felt unnaturally tight.

It didn't help the outfit was creased all over. He’d hastily thrown it back on after his tryst with Rangiku, the pants extra-rumpled and the jacket long-since forgotten. But Ichigo was even more ruffled on the inside. An influx of testosterone pumped in his veins. 

He smelled heavily of her musk... like the scent of Rangiku’s body had been pressed into his skin. 

After being a married man for so long, he’d forgotten the thrill of the hunt. He’d forgotten how wild women were, most of all hot, busty blondes with thick red lips. Ichigo felt flooded with life. He’d lived too long as a herbivore man.

He looked down at his adulterous hands as they twitched and tightened before his eyes. The realization that he had just used them to force himself on Rangiku, pinning her down and making her chug semen with her womb, like she would a pint glass, almost knocked him flat. 

And he still wanted more.

The wedding band on Ichigo’s index finger glimmered. A pang of guilt tried to penetrate his heart, but was easily deflected. Ichigo had realized he wasn’t a one-woman man, and he never had been. If anything, Ichigo needed to sow his seed even further. If Rukia wouldn’t give him children, he knew some other girls who would. They’d do it tonight!

Hero-worshippers like Yoruichi and Rangiku would bend over and spread their legs if he so much as slapped their asses. Why would he turn that down?

Under the thick layer of sweat dripping from his body, Ichigo felt alive and electric. He wanted more, and he knew where to get it. 

When Ichigo, big-dicked breeding bull that he was, re-entered the club, he was definitely seeing the throng of dancing party-goers with different eyes now. Everywhere he looked, it seemed like girls were begging to be fertilized... going to be fertilized if they kept it up. Every time Ichigo saw a short skirt or an exposed navel among the crowd, he wanted to pounce on them and pound them, admonishing them for not covering up their flat tummies if they were against this bareback outcome... Anyone exposing their navels like that was just saying "I'm so young and fertile."

And those sluts... they'd "hate" it so much they'd put him in a crushing leg lock to punish him for it. Those girls would whine "Take it outttt," while using their heels to drive Ichigo deeper. They’d protest while massaging his big nuts, showing lots of love for the sources of their motherhoods.

After all, they'd been anticipating something like this. They'd be so excited at the sight of cocks, even if they weren't completely sure they wanted them inside. They'd look on with cow-like, low-IQ stares, already livestock with bodies too lewd for anything else.

Girls in these parts had a crushing, hormonal urge to expose their navels as soon as they entered puberty. Maybe most of the time they could cover up, but on ovulation days they whined and toyed with their shirts teasingly if their bellies were covered for even a whole second... and if a stud went by, they'd lift their shirts on reflex, flaunting their flat stomachs. Society didn't account for that kind of relationship, but everyone knew midriff exposure was just silent begging to be bred.

The girls would just have to be punished for their risky teasing of dicks, all the cuties getting barebacked for advertising their bodies. Ichigo knew now these girls had been born to blunder dumbly through life until some nice young man turned them into breeding bitches, made to grow big boobs to feed their babies.

All this dancing out on the floor right now, it was just a prelude to what would come later. The way the men's hands played across the girl's bare midriffs told Ichigo everything he needed to know... Those guys were as dumb and horny as the women, just full nuts being led around by hard cocks, and they'd do whatever it took to engage in baby-making efforts in quiet corners later. Everyone dancing and drinking out there was thinking with their biological organs, sending out feelers to find the best partners to trade their genetic information with.

Everyone wanted to pass on the best genes possible to the next generation, whether they knew it or not. And the way Ichigo saw it, right now there was no male in the Soulburner more ready to pass on their genes than him.

Ichigo began stalking rapidly towards where Yoruichi Shihōin was still pole-dancing on the stage, a growing lust in his eyes.

\---

Back in the private little love nest she had arranged for herself and Ichigo, that naughty little homewrecker Rangiku Matsumoto was getting to the after-effects of the cocktail she'd been craving. Ichigo's cock-throttling was a heck of a drug, and implicitly wasted on little Rukia.

The Shinigami who was normally the perfect picture of inner peace now looked like an alcoholic in relapse, impure pleasure plastered across on her face. She lazed on the couch, legs apart, fresh semen dribbling out of the gaped depths of her once-tight little pussy. Not so tight anymore!

Rangiku had put this diabolical breeding regime together for one reason, and one reason only: to experience - and savour - an alpha male stud's seed flowing inside of her and gushing into her womb. She wanted to feel that army of evil, traitorous little sperm pouring into her.

And boy did she ever. They battered against her troublemaker eggs in waves, arrogantly seeking to reduce the Lieutenant into just another breeding sow.

As much as she'd have liked to assert that she was more than that, that there was more to her than just another rank and file womb to be seeded, her femininity and her womanhood argued otherwise. The sensation of her egg being jostled made her sigh and squirm in pleasure... and the feeling that followed after it was unmatched in the primal bliss it brought her. The biological itch she'd felt these past few years, the need to bear an alpha male's child, melted away. She sighed happily, and then jolted when her egg was run through.

Rangiku's toes curled as her enhanced senses clearly felt her egg's shell being split, the cavity yawning open to reveal defenseless insides... and her egg eagerly and mindlessly giving itself up. Her womanly instincts cursed it for not demanding shelter or protection in return for allowing the sperm entry... Like a slip of a girl in her most vulnerable moment, it was just grateful for an intruder and hungrily welcomed the intimacy spreading through it.

The semen locked into the egg, and Matsumoto cried out in a bliss she couldn't articulate. Her various guises as a Shinigami, a leader of men and women alike, even the wild club slut she'd been tonight, had been cast aside. All that was left now was the breeding bitch Ichigo had seeded, and would now carry her master's children to maturity. 

The thought inspired a supreme satisfaction in Rangiku. Soon, she was cradling her belly with both hands, massaging warmth into it.

\---

Up on the stage, Yoruichi Shihōin had been transformed into an in-heat African jungle fertility idol. She had taken over the enormous black stripper pole, dead-centre. She’d left the other, smaller poles around her to the other bitches dancing, yet all lights were focused on her. Those beacons were so bright playing across Yoruichi’s buxom form, they nearly blinded her. 

She looked amazing. Sensational. To every other man in the club, she looked unattainable. To Ichigo, still drunk off his blonde breeding bitch-induced high, she looked inviting. Approachable. A warm pool to take a soothing dip in... especially in front of all these rats who wouldn’t ever get to lay a single hand on her. As Ichigo mounted the stage, he felt like a man walking on sacred, hallowed ground.

Some of the other girls immediately gave him startled looks, until they saw Yoruichi had noticed him, and was enticing him closer with both her hips and her eyes. She coiled a fingertip towards the hunky man of her dreams, and he followed it. Ichigo was completely lovestruck.

And just like that, a certainly settled in Ichigo’s mind that he was going to be cheating on Rukia twice tonight. He was going to drag his married dick directly from one thick, lush unmarried cunt, still dripping fresh bitch-juices... and plunge it balls-deep directly into an even thicker, hotter box. He was going to salivate onto a second woman’s fat tiddies, and pump in and out of her lovely dark pussy like a monkey.

At this point, it was an inevitability. “Please forgive me for falling to huge, shirt-ripping tits, my flat-chested wife.”

During her short few hours in the Soulburner, Yoruichi had transformed fully into a ghetto hoodrat Goddess. As if by magic, she now looked every part a trick-turning piece of sexy meat, one that would get any hung young man up in arms and ready to father a whole passel of brats. 

It wasn’t just her wonderfully plump and luscious body that drew boys in. It was true that puberty had been very, even excessively, kind to Yoruichi, but her charm points began well before then, and they started with her skin. Taboo as it was, that luxuriously chocolate body was one of her biggest selling points. And poor Ichigo, he was certainly no exception. Looking at her made his heart pound in his chest. 

Black bitch! Chocolate pussy! Something so different and outlandish it begged his dick to conquer and colonize! That dark body drove Ichigo wild, igniting a primitive urge to stick his light-skinned dick deep inside and tame it, make her belly grow round and fruitful. The more he looked at that black body, that huge ghetto booty, the more urges to dominate, train, collar and most of all breed grew in his heart.

And goodness did she have the figure for breeding. Yoruichi had developed in every way a growing girl should - and then some - with swelteringly-large breasts, and broad childbearing hips. Said breasts were immediately eye-catching, swaying out in front of her as she danced. Each massive tit had grown larger than her head, and then some! Her top was stretched out with the task of containing those massive melons, but it certainly failed to contain her modesty. 

From the waist up, Yoruichi’s entire midriff was bare, with just an exercise halter-top to hold her thicc melons in, pinning and raising them on her chest and making them look even bigger. Easier targets than ever for a man's groping hands. The top was cute enough... aside from the word "BITCH" written across the bust-line, but Yoruichi's areolas were large enough that the small garment couldn’t quiiite cover them entirely. Instead, the splotchy brown skin had expanded with her breasts, to the point it was at now, where they just slightly peeked out along the underside of her flimsy top. There were no nipple indents in the fabric: her bulging breast flesh had long since turned her nipples inverted, sunken into her bosom. 

But Yoruichi’s breasts, as big and perfect and grippable as they were, weren’t even her best feature. That title went a booty so undeniably, mind-blowingly African that it made her look flat-chested in comparison... Yoruichi had a quadruple dose of caboose, like she’d undergone multiple puberties. Ichigo might like fat melons here, a cutely rounded belly there... but the thing that always started him drooling was a badonkadonk you could balance a glass of water on top of. 

Her bust, her lips, her flawlessly-flat belly... It all combined to make the perfect bitch. With a born-for-breeding figure like that, Yoruichi was just begging to be domesticated!

But it wasn’t like this was anything new... Ichigo knew as well as anyone else that skanky cougar had been dying to have a baby for some time. He could probably count the number of days on his hands where she hadn’t been wearing something skimpy around Soul Society, flashing tit to anyone who cared to look. There was nothing she liked more than signalling to potential mates to come and fill her up. 

But this felt like a whole other level. The clothes she’d picked out for tonight’s twerkin’ and grinding’ were just plain excessive. Maddening. That tight, small set of the trendiest fashion labels looked ready to creak from holding her all in, prime breeding bitch flesh bursting out in every possible way.

Each jiggly, jello-y booty-buttcheek was almost as wide as the span of Ichigo’s shoulders... put together they could have smothered his midsection between them. He'd have to dive down deep to even get a glimpse of her soft, pudgy asshole, let alone penetrate it.

The in-heat tramp had started by cramming her butt into a pair of yoga pants that had to be seen to believed, so tight she wore them like a second skin. The gauzy material rippled over her fat black ass in waves with each uncivilized ghetto-twerk.

They were ripped-up, too! They might be perfectly fine around the hips and waist, decent even! But once those pants reached her ass, it was a whole different story altogether. The flimsy garment became a tattered spider-web of latex strands, wear and tear winding its way around her booty-cheeks, brought about by what must have been thousands of shakes of that jello-y derriere. 

They might have passed for decent on, say, Rukia... or anyone else with the figure of a 10-year-old boy... but when worn by Yoruichi oodles of dark ass-flesh bulged through the slits, begging to be fucked in half. 

Yoruichi spread her legs and dropped low, unconsciously twerking along to the music with bounces of her meaty ass. Her thong, already wedged deep into the cheeks of her ass, now looked looking like a strand of dental floss on her blossomed-out hips.

 

And to top it all off, Yoruichi's tight cunt, visible through the barely-there material, had developed into a soft, cock-devouring mound straight from male fantasy. The big, thick labial lips were matched all too well by a plump, grape-sized clit that poked out from the top of her thong, just begging to have his lips wrapped around it. 

There was no denying it, Yoruichi was certifiably thicc as fuck - Ichigo could slap her ass and her whole fucking body would jiggle in response. 

Grabbing the pole with one hand, Yoruichi rose up on her incredible high heels. She really put some arch into that long, slender back, making titties rise and unbound purple hair spill. She pressed her sodden thong-clad cunt against the pole and bounced her booty, grinding against the steel in rhythm to the beat pounding the entire club. 

Pent-up desires usually reserved for the dumbest of horny bitches had long been filling Yoruichi's mind. When her fat, man-eating cunt pressed into the thick stripper pole, Yoruichi immediately began grinding against it. The bitch’s lust for dick was out of control. 

Ichigo stalked over to her, ignoring all those sluts swarming around her, casually disregarding their tiny dresses and tottering high heels. He clambered up onto the club stage, moving towards her... and Yoruichi immediately straightened up. Her enormous chest pressed up against the stripping pole as she titfucked it, keeping her legs spread and arching her back as she showed off her big black ass to him. 

"Well hey there, Ichigo... Come to say hello to me after spending so much time with that skank, ah?” Her thick body glistened with sweat, she was giving off a thick, musky aroma. Yoruichi was literally a bitch in heat. "Mmm, we are so overdue for this.”

But he didn’t come any closer. Her hunk, the man she’d been waiting for, instead stood frozen in place just a few feet away. His hands were up, ready and eager to begin grabbing, his breathing laboured. 

His eyes were moving to take in the crowd around them, darting this way and that. Yoruichi understood his nervousness right away, and narrowed her eyes. She was smiling smugly as she went back to inclining him with a finger. “It’s alright. Lieutenant Matsumoto should have told you... Nobody can see us right now...”

She rolled her hips in a horny circle. Half of it was teasing, but Ichigo picked up on something else in her movements as well. Yoruichi was moving antsily, like someone who had an itch they weren’t able to scratch on their own. She was shaking her booty like something was irritating her, something niggling and just out of reach...

Which was, Ichigo reflected, exactly the case. There was an itch there, right at the veeeery back of her slippery, dripping, dark-skinned pussy. She needed a hung Japanese male to relentlessly pound on it with his erection over and over until it was satisfied.

He knew she had that kind of urge, but didn’t Yoruichi also have another itch that she needed a man to scratch as well? And unlike the first, it could only be scratched by one very particular man in the world. Ichigo swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.

Her biological clock. While Rukia’s hormones had gone to sleep entirely, these two girl’s bodies were flaring up, howling at them to become animals, to live as baby-bearing broodmares. Instinctual urges were overriding their lives as Shinigami and women, hijacking their brains and leading the girls to distraction. Productivity fell by the wayside as work days began to be eaten up by longer and longer pussy-touching sessions. Even sleep and food time were being heavily cut into as the girls spent curled up in front of their computer monitors, dishevelled and unkempt. As their wombs growled for babies, these two harlots wasted hours looking up pregnancy, bareback and forced breeding porn, just any material they could find where girls were, unwilling or otherwise, turned into breeding sows without futures. They drooled and drew circles around their pussies, dipping fingertips in, and splattered their hands while imagining Ichigo’s seed hunting down their eggs, his angry voice demanding they get pregnant immediately, his sour face and dark eyes glowering at them.

“Please, please... Please come on...” whined Yoruichi, continuing to shake her fat ass and thong-clad cunt like a monkey. 

“Please, please... I’m in heat... Heheheh... Don’t you want to try fucking in the middle of this big crowd of people, Ichigo? We’re invisible, so come and enjoy the highly-decorated Clan Leader and Commander, Yoruichi-sama... Come on... You’re a strong, healthy man, aren’t you~? Knocking up two high-class pussies in one night should be no big deal!”

“Condoms...?” asked Ichigo, as if in a daze. Had he still not realized this club was a breeding ground? She wanted to spank his butt and step on his fat dick for saying something so silly to her!

“Eheheh, don’t you know? The condoms are invisible, too... If Rukia asks, you tell her they were invisible, heheheh...”

She made her booty quake with a slap that would have knocked a lesser woman off her feet. “Shinigami pussies are for bareback, you know? So just plow right in...” 

“Rukia...” Ichigo groaned. Yoruichi immediately cried in frustration when she saw doubts playing across his face. His hands had been stretching out towards her, but now he drew them back, just an inch. Just enough they weren’t slapping and pawing her ass like she was drooling for. She really wanted to scream or cry, Yoruichi wished Rukia could just stop existing for the next fifteen minutes. Long enough for a warm load of Kurosaki heirs to be fired into her receptive womb.

“I’m in heat... I’m wired for you... I want to fuck Ichigo Kurosaki...” she crooned. The sleek, curvaceous, big-dick rapist butted her rear end against him now, pounding his thighs and chest with waves of chocolate jello. 

“But... If you won’t, nnn...” She leaned back into him, driving him deeper into the flesh of her yoga pants-clad ass. He thought about how she’d probably never done a day of yoga in her life... and it actually made him want to laugh for a second. Then her lips weren’t inches from his, his hardening cock sandwiched in black booty, and his heart began pounding in his chest. 

Ichigo felt like he was being swept along at this point, he couldn’t stop it. This wasn’t seduction, it was a scene from a nature documentary. “The female approaches the male, and signals she is ready to begin mating... The male follows his instincts, and is receptive to her advances.”

“Just dance with me for a little bit...” whined Yoruichi, booty goddess and married-cock enthusiast. “At least just hold onto me for a few minutes?” 

She bucked her hips like dancing was the last thing on her mind.

“Please...? I won’t even rub on that massive dick of yours...” She already was.

Hearing that tone of desperation in her voice tipped Ichigo over the edge for the second time that night. He dove face-first for Yoruichi, seizing one of those giant melon-tits of hers and plastering his mouth to her lips. She opened up immediately in response, and his tongue wormed its way into her mouth. "Mmm... Yoruichi...”

“Mmm... Studdddd...” she crooned back. That African diva smooched him back, her lime-green lipstick leaving marks where she showered his face with kisses. Yoruichi kissed like she was trying to suck his dick out through his mouth, her plump body never stopping its bouncing and jiggling to the beat.

Yoruichi peppered his face and upper body with lime-green lipstick marks as she made her lust and desperation loud and clear. "Gaaaawd puh-lease, Ichigo, baby! Make me a momma~ Knock this fat black bitch ass up!"

That certainly put paid to it, didn't it~? The Head of the Shihōin Clan was well and truly gone, and this insanely-curved she-bitch breeding machine had replaced her.

Ichigo shifted his hands down, gripping her about the waist. His fingers splayed out across her back and hips. She howling in something like laughter, something like supreme relief. 

She had the sort of look on her face he was used to seeing on people after he’d saved their lives, from Hollows and worse... Who could remain faithful to a wife like Rukia while supermodel-level girls like Yoruichi were looking at him with that kind of pathetic gratefulness, just for sinking his raw dick into their unprotected pussies?

Ichigo hunkered down so her booty was at eye-level, watching those colossal cheeks swing with each beat of the music. He listened to the nasty lyrics pumping through the club... insensitive, offensive, completely politically incorrect... and he did it with his face half-buried in those ebony-black buttcheeks.

He clasped one of Yoruichi's thick cheeks in either hand, ramming his face into her shaking behind. Looking back, Yoruichi would get to see even her bigger-than-ever ass engulfed by his hands, having the life squeezed out of it. Ichigo tugged her pants down, helping her wriggle out of them, and black, black booty came rising up to meet him. He sucked on it. He lashed his tongue up and down her ass, streaking it with saliva.

Yoruichi squatted down in front of him, looping an arm around his neck as she rocked in circles on her tottering high heels. "Ichigo, baby... I need a cawk!" 

She squealed as the man dove into her sweaty black ass, lapping up that booty sweat as she twerked like a pro around his head. Her tongue lolled from her puffy lips as she squatted down low for him.

When Yoruichi spoke again, her voice was as strained and wanton as any other bitch here, just several magnitudes sultrier and sluttier. "Ichigo!" she called out. "Come on, how long are you gonna keep me waiting? I neeeeeeeed it!"

"Oh.. Oh fuck! ♥" Yoruichi squealed. She felt sluggish and stupid, but strangely okay with being so. More than anything though, she felt horny. Powerfully horny. So horny that she couldn't think straight.

This was nothing like his time with Rangiku. Miss Matsumoto, despite being so fertile he could have knocked her up just by looking at her, had played him slowly and carefully, working Ichigo up to a fever pitch before finally inserting him inside. Yoruichi had a muuuch simpler approach to getting what she wanted. 

Ichigo licked his lips, sweating like an animal under the hot lights. He had no choice but to fuck her... A long, hard fuck would calm her down a little, bring her back to the old Yoruichi mentally. That’s what Rukia would have wanted.

Releasing Yoruichi to where the big-ass bitch could go back to hypnotically swaying her booty in time with the beat, Ichigo hooked his fingers in her thong and began dragging it down. The club began to thump even harder, heat up even hotter. 

She watched his hands working, each sway of her hips - seemingly-galactic in scope - hooking her leopard-print thong another inch down that door frame-busting ass. His nails scratched her flesh, leaving dimpled trails of reddened flesh in their way.

Kick-a-kick went those hips, and Ichigo found himself at the halfway mark of her ass. The crotch of her thong was plastered to the melon-bulging fat cunt between those tree-trunk thighs of hers, plastered to her body with a mixture of perspiration and pussy-juices. 

Yoruichi bit her lower lip as Ichigo teased her thong off her booty. "That’s good... More... Come on, married man..." True to her words, that plump cunt of hers was juicing itself in preparation. That cunt was a man-eater, the kind of pussy a man could get lost in for days.

Ichigo gave Yoruichi’s thong one last tug and it slipped, baring her loosened, deepened husband-loving cunt. He drooled like an animal as it went all the way down her meaty legs to pool at her feet. His extra-crotch-room boxer shorts joined it right after. 

Ichigo bent Yoruichi over, leaving her tottering on the incredibly trashy slutwear she called her high heels. He dragged her hands behind her back, forcing her to present, and lined his pecker up with the entrance of the dusky club slut’s pussy. He immediately felt her fat cunt lips schlorping and sucking at the head of his cock. 

Ichigo began filling her up. He packed himself deep inside as the crowd seemed to roil and cheer him on. No condom. Breeding intent. She came with his first thrust.

As Ichigo began plowing her, Yoruichi’s squeals filled the air. She cried in exaltation to the wonders of dick. Each echoing slap of Ichigo's body on her hips caused a great ripple that seemed to go on for absolutely forever, making the endless expanse of her dark booty quake more than any amount of twerking ever could have. And each time she bounced forwards, she always rippled right back into him just in time for his next thrust. 

More than ever - more than he’d ever been with his wife - Ichigo was sooo grateful for being born a man with a great big fat cock: every thrust made him so glad he was cheating. 

And her pussy, dear god! Rangiku had been tight, but the silken walls of Yoruichi's pussy clutched and clung to every inch of his throbbing dick. She was just loose enough to make him slide rapidly in and out, and make an enormous mess in the process. Yoruichi was a sloppy bitch. Steaming hot cunt-slime oozed from her pussy in wet bursts that coincided with every time her thick clit was smacked by Ichigo's heavy balls. 

It was like guiding a ship through turbulent waters. He stayed the course.

"Mmm... Is this what you wanted, Yoruichi? You wanted to work me up until I fucked you as hard as I could... Just... Just look at you now... Nnnh!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Common sense dictated his cock should never be anywhere near where it was now, let alone balls-deep and bareback inside this super-ghetto skank. Yoruichi had become his breeding bitch, and he had become her stud breeder. 

It was the worst possible thing that could have happened.

"Looks like I won’t be... home at all tonight... Looks like I’m gonna miss my wife’s anniversary... And it’s all ‘cause... Nnngh...” Ichigo growled long and low in the back of his throat as Yoruichi's pussy opened up a little deeper and a little longer. He wasn't too sure how it happened, but all he knew was one moment he was growing frustrated at thinking he'd bottomed out in her, then her pussy made a long and lewd "schluck" sound and another few inches of vulgar dick disappeared into the black maiden's box. She rewarded her nasty cheating bull with more inches of velvet inner-muscle kissing and squeezing his dong.

"Ooooogh... 'C-Cause..." He was almost rendered speechless by her tightness. "Oooh, fuck... 'Cause I think I'm gonna be spending the rest of the night with you two!” 

Yoruichi was so awash with dick lust she could barely even understand him anymore. No, all her blissful mind could think about was how lucky she was that she was getting fucked by such a stud and how much she wanted his cum inside of her. She just nodded her head dumbly. 

"Ooh~! Ooooh, yeessssss... Fuck me, baby!" she squealed as Ichigo continued plowing her. Her mind blanked as Ichigo's dick slid even further inside of her, into her deepest, most fertile depths. When she realized she’d taken the entirety of his cock, her lips stretched into a vacant smile.

Ichigo sped up his thrusting, hilting inside of Yoruichi again and again... until he finally released her to push her against the stripper pole. She was so dazed she almost went head-first into it. Her hazy eyes slowly swam back into focus as she firmly grasped the pole with both hands. She gyrated her hips in circles. “Mmmmmnnn...”

With a few measured clicks of those high heels, Yoruichi shook her hips, making Ichigo’s fat dick slide out of her. The feisty little minx orbited her sultry hips a few times, then turned on a dime, pushing her melons into his chest. “Mmhmhm...”

Keeping her back against the pole, Yoruichi reached her arms up over her head and clasped the pole. With a single flex of those powerful Shinigami muscles, she lifted her entire body weight, spreading legs that could crush a man. She kicked them high into the air, exposing her sloppy cunt. 

"No stopping until I say so, stud," she cooed, a hint of her manifest authority creeping into her voice. 

Her eyes darted downwards. “Just look... You left the job half-done... Knock me up...”

Sure enough, a thin spider-web of spunk still connected bare dick-tip to unprotected pussy. With legs spread, and that hypnotic, bestial music driving them both wild, Yoruichi made the perfect target of her fat black pussy for a very, very hard cock. Ichigo moved forwards, drawn by his dick to that pussy that glistened with fertile juices. He was going to finish fucking - and impregnating - the unmarried sleaze-bag Yoruichi.

"Hnnngh... Knocking Yoruichi up... Knocking Yoruichi up..." He slapped her ass. "Yeah... Just a... bad girl... Getting what she deserves...”

Ichigo eased up towards the twerking beauty, little by little, drawing closer until the strong, bitch-splitting head of that violent and aggressive dick was inches from her breeding-hole. It trembled at her entrance as she lustily shook her hips back and forth, twerking like she was possessed. Yoruichi rolled her hips in waves, staring back at the cock inches from her pussy, writhing and bouncing her ass up and down.

The beat thumped, drawing another shake of her hips out of her. The tip of Ichigo’s cock entered Yoruichi for a moment, bringing her mind-melting pleasure. Another beat-fueled twerk and he was in again. Then he slipped out a second time, leaving Ichigo in the cool air.

He stepped forwards just enough that he was parked against Yoruichi's booty. Now each one of those mesmerizing booty-shakes made her slither up and down his pole. He began to thrust back in time.

It didn't take Ichigo long at all to finish, not after all the stimulation and tension he'd been through leading up to this. After a few minutes of this heated dancing, he suddenly doubled over, gripping Yoruichi's ass. Steamy cum rocketed into her, pouring from his bloated balls, giving her the same overwhelming dose that her buddy Rangiku had been subjected to just earlier today... He worked fast when there were a lot of unmarried pussies to get to, and he worked hard to impregnate, reproduce, and pass his DNA on to the next generation.

He tugged Yoruichi's head back by her hair and kissed her firmly.

Yoruichi slinked down the pole, that solid slab of black ass hitting the dance floor. She teased him with her black body, her big black tits and her big black ass. He had no choice in the matter any longer, and sank down to her level. He continued making savage love to his new best buddy.

When Rangiku recovered enough to venture out of her private room about thirty minutes later, she found them still at it, laying on the floor amidst the sea of dancers. All she could see of them from across the room was Yoruichi’s black ass and thighs, her ankles doubtless up around her head, and Ichigo’s pale ass on top of her, his hips shaking just like a monkey’s.

She grinned, and sauntered on over to them. It seemed like their stud was finally getting the hang of things.

Now they could really get this party started.


	4. Jacuzzi Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi and Rangiku compel Ichigo to cheat on his wife Rukia! Strong adultery/cuckolding warning!

The front door of the Kurosaki residence opened with a long, drawn-out squeal - the kind of prolonged groan that sounds deafening in the dead of night. Four large, bulging breasts passed through the entrance, bosoms so large their size might best be described as "idiotic", followed by three giggling, drunkenly-swaying silhouettes padding gently across the linoleum flooring.

“Shhh...” whispered one.

“Shhhhhhh... Yihihihihi~” They giggled, shushed each other, then giggled some more. After all night at the club, the girl’s voices came out raspy and breathy.

Two pairs of high heels dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. The gaudy, arched garments, scattered with rhinestones, had done their job of broadcasting a loud and clear “Fuck me!” message for their owners... Now they could be tossed haphazardly on top of the neatly-organized shoes in the doorway: Rukia’s - Mrs. Kurosaki’s - collection of sensible flats, sneakers and Mary-Janes. 

A moment later, the high heels were joined by a pair of men’s dress shoes, gently set down in the corner.

The heels were very far removed from anything in the doorway. But then these two women were very far removed from Rukia herself.

Someone flipped a light-switch, and the room was bathed in halogen glow, revealing the trio of intruders. One blonde bimbo with ivory skin and jumbo tits. One dark-skinned hussy with long purple hair and a shapely ghetto booty that positively thrust out behind her... both dressed like professional streetwalkers, obviously! Their clothes looked plastered on. More to the point, they looked ready to come off.

And between these women was a married man. Not that anyone would have guessed, from the way his hands were clasped tightly around their shapely waists, fingers pawing possessively at the smooth, even-tanned skin. They looked like a pair of dolls and their chiselled hunk boyfriend... or like the models between the pages of a magazine. Not that you’d see any of these three filling up the supermarket shopping aisle, goodness no. Their existence was an exciting one, that took place outside of Earth’s bounds.

They looked larger than life in the drab little kitchen, like some Angels who’d come down to have vigorous, rough, superhuman sex for the evening before vanishing back up to Heaven. Too bad Rukia was going to miss every last sweat-soaked minute...

Ichigo glanced towards the counter, seeing a half-finished bottle of wine still resting there, along with one of Rukia’s wine glasses. “Looks like she had a few drinks and went to sleep... Mm, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to come back here, we might wake her - ”

“Ahh-ahh-ahh... You’re the one who was bragging about your jacuzzi, hot stuff,” giggled Rangiku.

“Yeah... And besides...” crooned Yoruichi, slipping into his field of view and grinding back at him. She put that fat ass right on his crotch and comboed it with a gleaming, glowing bitch-grin. “How many of those motherfuckers at Soul Society would kill for a threeway with Yoruichi and Matsumoto-san? You’re fuckin’ craaazy if you’re gonna pass that up.”

Rangiku scritched Ichigo under his chin, before bringing her hand down to plant her fist on his chest. “We’d never forgive you... I’d never forgive you.”

By this point, Ichigo had long since given up on protesting that he was married. They didn’t care, and neither did he. He could have stopped at any time, and he hadn’t.

“Well... At least let me put her presents away first... Ummm~” Ichigo looked about in a daze. He patted himself down as if the wine, chocolates and diamond necklace he’d bought for Rukia might just suddenly materialize in his pocket.

“Uhm...” he groaned, turning back to the girls.

“Looking for these?” asked Rangiku, holding up an empty box of chocolates. The paper had been thoroughly crumpled by the hands of drunks pawing at its insides... Ichigo vaguely remembered eating something... his memory had become hazier and hazier the more they’d drunk. And they had drunk a lot. 

“A-Ahh...” he murmured, glancing sideways as Yoruichi produced an empty bottle of wine.

“What about the necklace?” he asked hopefully. Rangiku and Yoruichi exchanged a meaningful look.

“Haven’t seen it,” Yoruichi said finally.

Rangiku nodded, reaching back behind her thick rear end to stuff a certain diamond necklace deeper into her back pocket. She giggle-snorted like a drunk, already wondering what her dealer would give her for it.

“Mm,” Ichigo nodded. “Alright... Let’s head up to the jacuzzi, then.”

He froze halfway up the stairs. “But don’t make a sound. It’s bad enough I missed my anniversary... If Rukia finds you two here...”

Rangiku hopped up the stairs, circling around in front of him. It put her a whole foot higher than him, and she quickly took advantage of it. Rangiku trapped him against the wall, burying his head under an avalanche of blonde curls, and began kissing him roughly. She forced her tongue inside his mouth, taking him forcefully. “Yeah... We get it,” she finally said.

She bit his lip. “It’ll be bad for us if we get caught here, too, you know. Kuchiki-san is our co-worker... We’re gonna be in and out so quick, she’ll never know we were here.”

Yoruichi plucked at her top. “... Don’t forget we need some swimsuits, too. Or were you gonna make us get in the tub... nuuuude?”

Rangiku laughed. “Oh! Yeah! Get us two of the beanpole’s bikinis, alright? There’s a good boy.”

“Can’t guarantee we won’t stretch ‘em out, though,” sniggered Yoruichi. Both girls were soon holding their middles, trembling with laughter they fought to hold in.

“Holy shit, I bet they’re child-sized,” laughed Rangiku.

“I know! I know! Make sure to take a photo when he brings them down...”

\---

Soon, Rangiku and Yoruichi were settled nice and deep into the Kurosaki family’s private jacuzzi, barely covered in their skimpy little swimsuits. 

They were giddy. Ichigo’s home was so nice, so far removed from the sorts of places they liked to frequent... They felt like proper ladies, a very unfamiliar notion to be sure. They’d been called hoodlums, homewreckers, chijos, sluts and worse besides... Not so much ladies, though!

Now all that was left to do was wait for Ichigo to arrive... Some girls might be worried he would still bail on them at this point, finding some excuse to duck out and run like a little baby to his, ugh, “betrothed.” He certainly had noticeably jumpy on the way in, as if worried Rukia would come bursting through the door at any moment.

But they knew they had nothing to fear. The girls had Ichigo well in-hand at this point. They were going to make him go all the way, and he knew it. Yoruichi, in particular, knew how to press his buttons... and if there were two things that their communal stud liked, it was big tits and raw pussy. 

And they had both in spades. Ichigo wouldn’t be able to help but ogle the two sweet little pieces in their teeny little string bikinis, currently nestled in his jacuzzi.

Not that he was the only one getting a sweet deal here. Goodness, no. Rangiku and Yoruichi couldn’t help but nibble their fat little lips when they thought about what they were getting out of his convenient little arrangement... 

How many years had it been now that they had been surrounded by the men of Soul Society?   
Almost all of them were intimidating and impressive to look at... some even handsome in their own way... But thinking on that, and then considering that both beauties had remained single for so long, it spoke volumes about the women’s interests.

For all those men of Soul Society’s talents, they simply lacked the certain something that would light a fire in the bellies of these two super-powered bimbos. For all their efforts to impress and woo, Yoruichi and Rangiku’s legs had remained locked together, their hearts cold as ice... The men became infuriated at remaining locked on the outside, only able to imagine the fiery lusts these two breeding bitches were capable of.

They continued to feverishly cry for the women’s attentions, all while decrying the very idea that it was as simple as finding the right key, the magic combination or phrase... Some magic trick that would make their ankles shoot apart, their bellies growl, and their wombs ache for something big and masculine inside...

But it had existed. And in hunting for it, the way had been cut off to them. 

Yoruichi still remembered that bratty boy’s cool disregard for her, his arrogance in speaking openly to her. Unlike the men she usually dealt with, there was no desperation in Ichigo’s words... at the time he hadn’t seemed like he’d cared if she’d lived or died.

How could any man have so much raw power? Or give off such an overwhelming level of machismo, such a clear impression of a true Alpha Stud? All baby girls were delivered into the world with an instinctual urge to grow big, fat tits and wide-childbearing hips, so they could one day find Ichigo and be fucked into pregnant submission by him.

Compared to those desperate, needy men, he made her heart pound in her chest. She and Matsumoto were very skilled at recognizing desperation, after all: they themselves felt it so often as scavengers on the lookout for approaching apex predators.

And they’d finally found the perfect cure for their ennui. 

Ichigo stepped through the doorway. Both bitch’s pussies immediately became wet.

He was a man among boys. A titan, really. Finely-sculpted muscles, a broad bare chest like a washboard, without a single ounce of fat to be found anywhere. Powerful legs, a firmly toned ass, a package that went on and on and on... Ichigo put other men to shame with his powerfully sculpted physique.

If any other man around was enjoying a fine pair of tits, he’d only be doing it by swooping in under Ichigo’s field of effect: he was, frankly, droolworthy.

He was also wearing nothing but a tight pair of little black shorts, which did nothing to contain the behemoth in his pants. Even with shorts that went down nearly to his knees she could still see where that bulge folded over just to fit inside of the garment. His body might only be 150% bigger than the average male, but his dick was more like 300%.

Both girls immediately showed their approval. Rangiku with a lick and bite of her lush lips, Yoruichi with a coo and a giggle. And they were more than right to be impressed. If ever a man had fit the title of a sculpted Adonis, then Ichigo was it... They were looking at the peak of masculinity, flawless genetic material.

Ichigo quickly slipped into the water between the two girls. Before they knew it, all that male muscle had displaced the water: where it had previously lapped at their belly-buttons, it now reached their breasts, almost up to their shoulders. Being physically intimidated by men had been a daily experience for these two since they’d joined Soul Society all those years ago, but none even come close to comparing to the incredible display of sheer and utter physical domination that was currently unsettling the waters between her and Rangiku. 

Ichigo slung an arm around each girl’s shoulders, lightly grazing tits with his fingertips. "Well, mm, here we are... Just you... and me... and you.”

Almost immediately, Yoruichi curled that tight little sex-fiend body of hers just a bit closer to the hulking stud between the two of them, drawn in by such a combination of incomparable stature and massive baby-making potential. 

"Hora hora... Look who it is, the big cheater... ” she teased. 

Yoruichi glanced sideways at Rangiku around the huge chest of their man. “Fucking around behind his wife’s back... Is there any lower kind of male?”

That rich caramel body shifted in the water. Black skin pooled over Ichigo’s pale body. She leaned forwards, flicking her tongue up and down along Ichigo’s bared nipple. “Do you think God placed us here in this room with him, so we can properly punish him for his infidelity?”

Rangiku blushed and smiled. She moved in a little closer as well, drawn by Yoruichi’s words. “M - Mm!”

Flick. Flick-flick. That little tongue worked up a storm on Ichigo’s chest. “Bad, naughty boy... You’d better be ready to pound our pussies with everything you’ve got... If I wasn’t ovulating earlier, I definitely started when you came in the door just now.”

Yoruichi knew exactly what these two wanted to hear... because it was what she’d have wanted to hear in either of their places. 

Matsumoto finally found her voice: “That’s right, stud... We’re going to keep you up all night.” The blonde could scarcely help but feel a sense of anticipation, wondering just how much better this situation could get from her perspective.

Even after joining Soul Society, Rangiku had found herself rather unimpressed with the 'local talent.’ There were plenty of boys interested in a little sex fiend like her, but they hardly impressed her. But none had ever had the arm worth wrapping her plush, natural tits around. Now Ichigo was in her grasp, it was hard to believe this moment was really happening... This whole night had seemed far too perfect. 

The girls cuddling into his sides seemed to be par for the course now. It was to be expected. They weren’t letting him go anywhere until he’d poured more gooey hot seed deep into their fertile wombs.

And these were the perfect girls for such a treatment. Solid 10s, the pair of them. Both with heavy teats he could already imagine swollen with nourishing milk, and every last drop of it going into his baby’s mouths. The thought just about made his toes curl in happiness, and he was soon pulling Rangiku into a tighter embrace, making her mirror Yoruichi’s posture. 

Now with the girls closer, he could really get a handle on those plush breeding-queen curves. "Mm... Yeah... Just... Keep it down, or Rukia will hear...” 

Matsumoto flashed Ichigo a hypnotizing grin. His dick rose harder and harder the longer he stared deep into that man-eater’s eyes.“Then how about instead of talking about touching us... You do it~?” 

Matsumoto took one of his hands, sliding both of hers down the length of his arm. She ended up with her arms together under and around his shoulder, pulling his hand towards her... while her horny dark friend did the same on the other side. Both girls grinned as they pulled his hands all the way up out of the water and onto their bodies.

“Let these do the talkin' for you... Mm!” Without giving Ichigo any warning, both girls dropped his hands onto their curled-up bodies, forcing a big melon tiddy in either hand. One of Matsumoto’s Holsteins, and one of Yoruichi’s big black teats, filled his hands to the brim with fertile flesh... more than he could ever possibly fit in both of his hands, let alone one. 

Ichigo tightened and loosened his grip on those huge, wobbling mounds over and over. He toyed and squeezed those fat, perfect melons, almost as if to drain them of the milk that would soon swell them to even more whorish sizes. 

 

And the girls simply sighed their appreciation. They shut their eyes and opened their mouths, huffing as he played with their chests. “Mm. That’s it. That’s good, Ichigo... You’re a real man now, taking whatever you want...”

Yoruichi shuddered beside her. “Mmm. Real men. Real man. I’m soooo fed up with entertaining losers.”

She winked his way. “We just needed to get a little bit of a taste of something more, you know? We’re not really bad girls." 

And a real man, so far as they understood it, took what he wanted, and made no bones about it. Handling their bodies like this, the Adonis between the girls got a firsthand look at the differences between his two breeders-to-be. Yoruichi was all firm lines and toned limbs, a bombshell in every respect of the word, a fitness enthusiast with a body made to fuck and, more importantly, be fucked.

Rangiku, on the other hand, was a princess through and through. Skinny, nubile frame, big, fat tits so heavy they must pull her body side to side with each sway as she walked, a prize fit for a conquering barbarian to build his empire with.

And he enjoyed them thoroughly. Where so many boy’s hands were overwhelmed by either of their cleavages before, Ichigo’s seemed to settle in perfectly, rapidly taking a commanding grasp. Despite his claims to a happy marriage with flat-chested Rukia, the stud’s hands seemed perfectly suited to snatching and manhandling their large breasts. It felt like second nature to him! Clearly, his ancestors had only ever pounded their babies into prime breeding bodies... and Ichigo would be no exception.

Soon, Ichigo’s fingers crept down to seize the girl’s chests around the base. That bad boy’s hands rhythmically pumped and squeezed his fingers, each time making those titties bulge out of their bikini tops. "Mmm... I’ll believe you’re not bad girls when you’re out of my house and not risking my marriage... But, ah...”

He paused, gulping nervously. He gave each of the tits in his hands a very firm squeeze. “But until then... I’ll see if I can accommodate you two...”

He really didn’t have a choice. These two gems were perfect... bodies and prime wombs wasted on pitiful men. They were much better off repurposed for a greater goal, a man worthy of claiming them. 

The girl’s moans sounded out around the tub, music to that beast of a man as they sang like the whores they could soon become. "You’ve already done plenty to that end,” Yoruichi cooed, her nipples visibly stiffening beneath the thin fabric of her skimpy white bikini. 

The blonde beside her giggled. “We’re sorry about Rukia... But I only really make friends with busty girls... I’m not used to having to worry about the feelings of, ah, stunted little children, eheheh.”

Now they were openly insulting his wife. The situation had rapidly spiralled out of control... This was becoming less and less like a meet-up between fuck-buddies, and more like a stud stallion being lined up with two more-than-ready fillies. They were more than ready for it. A lifetime of blowing off small dicks, making excuses to small dicks, teasing small dicks... and never, ever fucking small dicks made sure of that!

Ichigo flicked both their bikini tits off, gripping their tits more openly now. Just like nature intended between studs and bitches, Ichigo took what he wanted from the girls without asking. 

"I can’t believe you sluts, talking about my woman like that...” He was scolding them, but he pulled them closer at the same time.

"Just ‘cause you’ve got these giant tits... these thick, mature asses... It’s un... unfair to compare her to these perfect bodies and breedin' curves... Just shut up... Kiss me and shut up...”

He leaned over, plastering his lips to Yoruichi's mouth as his vulgar words washed over them. Beside her, Matsumoto grinned. "Like you’re any better... If you weren’t so choosy you could’ve had dozens of babies by now... Man up and put these whore bodies to work makin' babies... Your babies.”

Ichigo leaned back, took a deep breath of the steamy bathroom air, then turned towards that thick head of blonde, those jaw-dropping pale teats bobbing on top of the water. “Your turn, Rangiku."

He mashed his mouth against the flawless beauty, drooling copiously, his gooey saliva flowing down her throat. His tongue was bigger than hers, and slapped her smaller one around. He pinned it to the floor of her mouth in a way that made her shudder. "I’m gonna breed you two... And we’re gonna breed often. Starting tonight. Bottoms off."

Now that was what the girls had been waiting to hear! Turning their plush, mature bodies over to being factories for more aggressive men like Ichigo? Yes please!

If they went down this path, the girls would be branded adulteresses, sluts, homewreckers, and worse besides. But then why did the idea of sliding Ichigo’s babies out of their wombs, breastfeeding Ichigo’s babies to grow up big and strong... and making sure other men never got their dicks wet no matter what... sound so very appealing? 

It became very apparent why the other men at Soul Society had all but given up on the girls, leaving the true alpha to stake his claim. After all, they'd had hundreds of years to make their case with Rangiku and Yoruichi and made no progress. Ichigo, in just a few years, had already married Rukia and caught the eye of countless other women. 

And now he’d been rewarded for his assertiveness with two very full and very heavy handfuls of perfect, firm, fat, soon-to-be milk-laden titties... as well as two cooing, mewling, and very sex-starved honeys intrigued by an idea that ordinarily would have offended their sensibilities: becoming a man’s side-bitches. Bitches who spread their legs for him the second his wife’s back was turned, in a depraved and sex-filled mission to grow their alpha’s lineage of superior specimens.

Truthfully, one had to wonder just how Ichigo had so thoroughly ensnared the otherwise uptight pair, and caught their interest where so many others had failed. Something about the man was just irresistible at its core, in a way that called out and appealed to base instincts. It unlocked and toyed with the primitive part of those fertile, fat-tittied girl’s minds, the parts that sought dominance, conquest, violence... and savage, primitive purpose. 

Even the way he kissed them was unlike anything the two had ever experienced from other men before; men who seemed increasingly pitiful and powerless the more the girls interacted with Ichigo. Rangiku and Yoruichi both panted in a hazy fervor, drunk on the atmosphere, on the debauched imagery that he planted in their minds as he toyed with their bodies.

They’d never been more excited. Ichigo was a married man. They were robbing another woman blind, and taking what wasn’t theirs. This bull with the ring on his finger was going to knock them up, to pump their untouched and pristine wombs full of his ridiculously-virile baby-batter. They both untied their stringy little bikini bottoms to reveal the plump, smoothly trimmed mounds of their tiny pussies, already slick and ready for the monster still restrained in those barely-intact shorts.

It was definitely time for the main event. Matsumoto was the one who broke the silence. "No point putting it off any longer. We’ve got our bottoms off, only fair the bull does the same."

Ichigo nodded. He hooked his thumbs in his tight shorts and lifted his hips, beginning to drag the skimpy garments down. The air was thick with tension as he scooted them down, down, down. 

He made plenty of room for the girls to help him get them down. They did.

Ichigo’s smooth, hairless crotch came into view, flanked by enormous, muscled thighs. A little lower.

The first inch appeared. Even having been fucked by it, the rapid encounters in the club were nothing compared to this slow, drawn-out baring of shaft. Once again, the girls found themselves thinking no dick was that thick. No way. 

From that first inch it had been clear - completely, absolutely, and abundantly clear - that this was something unlike anything either of them had ever seen before in person, in porn, even in stories they'd heard from other girls. They were, in fact, privileged to even bear witness to such a sight, to a fat babymaker of such incomparable virility, so fat, thick, and heavy that neither of them could be certain of wrapping around it even with both hands. It took up all the visible space between his thighs, literally looking like a third leg, long and plump and already beginning to throb and ripple with veins.The beginnings of a pair of immense, sloshing seed pods became visible. A little lower.

To the sluts, it felt like Ichigo reached the six-inch mark in no time. The average length of their male courtiers had been left long behind somewhere around the 2 or 3-inch mark, but he still had plenty of dick left to go. That incredibly dominant, attractive organ continued to shock and awe, like the picture-perfect manifestation of what every girl wanted to choke on. Below the thick pole, they got their first proper look at his nuts, skin stretched tight over the two cum-producing orbs.

From the bulge that yet remained in his shorts there was no doubt that there was more - much more - to come. And a little lower still.

Around the 12-inch mark, their faith was once again tested. They'd heard men could get this big, but how could this possibly be real? Was this some kind of a dream of a perfect man? If word of this monster cock got out around Soul Society, Rangiku and Yoruichi would be fighting every other bitch there for a taste of the genetically-superior male. No other male Shinigami would ever get laid again. 

For the first time since they'd arrived, Rangiku and Yoruichi shared the same expression: shock, awe, disbelief, and anticipation, eager to get a full look at what had long been teased at, implied, toyed with, but only now revealed. At the 12-inch mark, the two fairly wondered, albeit silently, if this could really be considered a two woman job, if it didn't require three or four at the very least to really get a grasp on the full length of it, the sheer girth and weight of it. They held their breath as he paused, and gasped as he continued, finally letting the shorts slide all the way down, and loosing that monster from its cramped confines, slapping wetly, breaking the surface of the water, as it pounded against his own powerfully sculpted abdomen.

"You two look like you need a breather, heheheh..." teased Ichigo, drawing his shorts back up his cock a little bit, seeing how they responded. And then he tugged them the rest of the way down.

With a beast-like growl from the ultimate Alpha male, Ichigo's dick sprung up, hard as steel, and thudded against his belly. It sounded like a drum, one calling their eggs to muster, announcing loudly to the girls to begin ovulating right now. Ichigo looked from one hussy to the next, dick twitching, eyes wide, wondering just where to stick it first. "You girls were born to ride this dick."

He plucked one of their hands in each of his, and laid their fingertips on the rod, their new idol of worship. "You better make the most of it, bitches."

As Ichigo put their hands firmly on his pole - slaps ringing in their ears, furnace-like heat seeping into their fingers - it became clear to the girls just why their bodies were as they were. Why they'd been gifted with such lush, fat tits that engulfed boys completely, with curves most couldn't even begin to handle, wombs that they could never even hope to reach. The girls came to with a resounding clarity as they pumped his girth with hands that only barely, barely managed to touch fingertips around his incomparable thickness.

Instinct guided the girls as they leaned in for a closer look, the heat emanating from every thickly-veined and pulsating inch of turgid dick robbing them of their sensibilities. It took all four hands to even get any semblance of a grasp on it, working together to pump and explore, try and fail to truly cover any substantial area of that seemingly endless pillar of flesh. 

"Oh mah God!" Yoruichi cried out breathlessly, Rangiku herself silently entranced as it seemed to grow even further, gradually reaching full size under the attentions of all four hands working up and down that length.

Ichigo put his hands back around the girl's shoulders. His grip settled possessively down on the slender figures of those two luscious baby-makers as they beheld the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end of their lives: big, breeding cock. He drew them in closer and closer, little by little, bringing their faces riiight up to the shaft, and spoke in a rugged, authoritative voice to the pair of sows:

"Take a good look at your future, girls... This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Now you’re going to serve it completely...”

He shifted his grip to the backs of their heads, palming Yoruichi and Rangiku like a pair of pocket pussies he planned sleeve on that hard pole. Not that they sold pocket pussies big enough for him: they'd break. Thankfully, their pussies could take him, it just hurt. A lot. But they always thanked the brutal beast afterwards.

“You two, climb on. After bottoming out in Rukia so often, I want to see who can take it deepest... who has the better pussy for breeding. Mmm... Make sure to help each other out getting it deeper... Lots of kisses...”

Even without his hands on their heads, they would have gradually been drawn towards his member, entranced by such a raw and untamed display of brute virility, a beast of a cock existing for nothing short of a divine purpose. The scene framed the natural order of things in a singular moment: pale, pink lips meant to be stretched wide around a fat slab of meat, tight, fit, flexible bodies meant to be pinned down and stuffed, stretched, and shaped to their demigod's exact size and desires... and fat, heavy, lush teats too bountiful for others, made to snugly envelop only the fattest cocks between them.

They might have looked like nothing more than fuckdolls, but ordinarily Yoruichi and Rangiku were smart girls. That evaporated here, melted away completely in the face of a power that was beyond them, slave to the hypnotic voice of Ichigo as he drilled their future purpose into their minds... all while that immaculate slab of fat cock dominated their field of vision by its sheer size and thickness. It all felt right, natural, to give up their slender, fertile bodies to the deity offering them something well beyond anything they ever would have experienced otherwise.

It was knowing that, being aware of their situation, that brought the usually prickly Rangiku and overbearing Yoruichi into line. They coordinated themselves, leaning in obediently. 

Rangiku wrapped her perky, pillowy mounds around Ichigo's base, barely able to envelop the fat foundation of that monument. Yoruichi, on the other hand, applied both hands, her tongue, and her tits to the middle of his shaft... and soon was teasing and working her way up more than a full foot of meat. She would be the first one to take the lead, the first to sample - have a taste - of what would become their futures. She gradually ascended up his full length, worshipfully licking and sucking all the while, before straining her lips around the fat head.

Ichigo lazed back in the water, watching the girls go to work. They had four jumbo-tits to work with altogether, and yet they still failed to completely smother his rod in breast flesh... it made him wonder once again how he’d ever “settled” for a flat-chested girl like Rukia. Big dicks were made for big tits. It would have taken a whole sorority working all at once to completely smother him in luscious breast-flesh, bringing him to the completion he really deserved while simultaneously cum-bathing every last rack in that gathering.

But who was he to ruin their fun? It was nice watching them try, so he eased back into the water and sipped his beer as Rangiku pressured his base with her juicy cow-udders, while Yoruichi puts hers on the huge, bulging head of his bitchbreaker. When their boobies met in the middle with a big slap - and both girls howled and moaned - he couldn't help but grin. There was nothing like seeing girls giving their first double-paizuri... 

Could they climb the whole mountain? When it came to Ichigo’s shaft, a girly could start with her tatas at the bottom, intent on bringing him the pleasure of a full-pole massage... only to end up exhausted barely even halfway there. 

"Come on girls. Isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t get worn out on me yet...” he teased. “Make me cum.”

Occasionally he tugged one of them in for a sloppy kiss, but mostly he just had them rub his pole and take turns sucking the tip. He mashed it against their pouty lips, flattening their mouths with the rock-hard head. He held it in their throats and railed their faces, alternating. He thrust so hard his balls slapped their tits hard enough to sting. And he built up to a hell of a cumshot.

The more they worked, the more obvious it became that Ichigo simply was not a two-woman job. They would need a veritable bevy of bountiful, nubile, lush bodies to properly indulge a lust and a hunger as voracious as his own. But tonight...

Tonight they wouldn't have to share, something they both savored.

Their efforts became properly focused on the task at hand, deserving of their complete and full attention as four fat tits, four attentive hands, and two sets of lips and tongues set to work proper and earnest bathing that immaculate, god-like meat in steady worshipful attention. They embraced the task at hand.

While Rangiku remained off to the side, Yoruichi took the lead, as the somewhat more experienced, more bold, and more reckless of the pair. She moved slowly towards the center, never ceasing in the pumping of her fat, pale udders or the suckling and licking of her mouth at that head as she straddled Ichigo. She spread her shapely, sculpted legs wide around his frame. 

Below the water, Yoruichi scooted her hips up, sliding them forward until her already slick pussy seated itself against the object of her sinful craving, her labia forced apart naturally by the fat, thickly throbbing vein that lined the underside of his cock, a lock and key fit that brought a moan to her lips and trembles to her body. Her whole body went to work servicing him from the front as Rangiku provided support from the side, grinding her pussy up and down at the base. Yoruichi worked her melons up and down near the top, and used her mouth to wrap snugly around the pulsing tip, and let Rangiku continue to work the middle from her position on the side of Ichigo's lap.

Even with all of their efforts combined, they fell short of completely enveloping that enormous slab of cock. But it was close, a valiant effort given the limitations of only having two girls. And judging by his thrusts, Ichigo agreed: he thrust up so hard Yoruichi's head whipped back and forth, drawing gagging from her, and leaving more of his shaft’s tip glistening with her saliva.

Other pairs of girls might have floundered completely, not even knowing where to begin handling this much dick at once. Other girls would have simply succumbed to staring dumbly, unable to even begin comprehending his pole’s size.

But Yoruichi and Rangiku seemed perfectly capable of handling him, mewling happily as they slithered up and down his pole, twerking their thick booties and getting knocked up. Their movements spoke volumes about their enthusiasm. But using all four tits and both pussies to massage the great pole took him entirely by surprise. He'd been right to go with these two.

He orgasmed. And what an incredible orgasm it was.

Chills ran up the great male's spine, his back arching and his mouth falling open in a big "O". He howled long and low as he trembled all over, a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, and would give every other man in a block radius night terrors for the next month. It was a wonder it didn’t shock Rukia awake from where she lay in her bed a few rooms over.

As Yoruichi and Rangiku mashed their busts together around Ichigo's pole in female bliss, he released a cumshot directly straight-up into the air, fountaining over them... and then landing sideways on the girls, soaking them in seed. But even after producing twenty times a bigger load than any other man, his semen still continued to flow: steamy hot loads of ejaculate rushing up the inside of his shivering penis.

"Uuuhh.... Uhnnnnnnn!" The smell of Ichigo’s spunk got thicker and thicker as big globs of white goo ended up in the jacuzzi with them. The man's orgasm was an earthshaking affair in and of itself, so intense, almost violent, that both of the two sexy little fuck dolls could feel that turgid and trembling length swell and throb and tense, thickening visibly in their hold and against their bodies as full litres geysered into the air, splattering down messily all over their bodies and the hot tub. It clung to whatever it hit, tingled against skin, and was so hot that it nearly burned, a testament to just how impossibly virile this man was. He was set apart from all other male specimens with a particular purpose, a specific mission: to sow his seed in all women around him.

Ichigo’s seed flooded the girl's nostrils with an amazing male scent. It was a smell that felt totally natural to them - totally right - and they couldn't get enough of it. That scent, and the sensation, it was all new, all overwhelming, addicting in its presence and intensity. Both Rangiku and Yoruichi shuddered from the unfamiliarity of it but never ceasing, continuing proper in their worshipful and bodily attentions so long as even the smallest of ropes and jets continued to loose themselves forcibly from the throbbing tip of that length. 

Even imagining that such a load could have perhaps ended up inside of them was enough to make any woman shudder, and from the smell of it, the feel, the volume, one could have no doubt that had even a single salvo of it so much as aimed towards their perfect, tiny little pussies, they would have been knocked up without a single shred of doubt.

It occurred to Ichigo that he had made the right decision in all this. There were plenty of girls in this world worth a notch in the belt, sure, but so many of them were just cheap lays for the quick relieving of some pent-up lust. He could have fucked around with Yoruichi and Matsumoto like that and never risked what he risked now... 

But that wasn’t enough for these two. They were among a select few, the best of the best, the most fertile and fuckable of perfect 10's, that truly demanded the barebacking he intended to give them... These girls needed to be deliberately creampied on their most dangerous days, enjoying a bliss only women knew as they were pounded into and bred like beasts.

Ichigo didn't flag an inch. He stayed fully erect all the way through his ejaculation, and would continue to do so for hours after. There was no downtime for the ultimate alpha male, not when bitches were waiting to be seeded. 

And he had two of those very perfect 10s right with him here and now.


	5. Jacuzzi Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi and Rangiku compel Ichigo to cheat on his wife Rukia! Strong adultery/cuckolding warning!

Big-titty bimbo Rangiku was first. 

Not to say he let Yoruichi out of his lap... He kept both girls right there, ready to alternate from one slippery puss to the other at a moment's notice - but he wanted to stuff Matsumoto’s baby chamber first.

He wanted to turn the bitch-sow's cunt into a stud-only zone, closing her off to other men forever... making her into his toy. She seduced him with her silky-soft flesh, perfect make-up and sinful curves - big teats made to wrap around his dick... He wanted to see the lights go out behind that perfect bitch's eyes as he penetrated her.

Few women would ever be so privileged to see such a display of unflinching and unparalleled male might. Submission in the face of Ichigo was the only reasonable and sound female response. As far as both girls were concerned, this man was nothing short of the ultimate male specimen, with a body the likes of which other men only dreamed of achieving. He exerted an aura of masculinity, veritable waves of dominance that tamed women in droves. It was, quite simply, his destiny, to have come across these two immaculate pieces of soon-to-be Ichigo-exclusive breeding meat. After having fucked and fought his way to the top from nothing, he hit the the big time, with two perfect, fat-tittied, fertile, and fully enraptured fuckdolls.

Rangiku knew this was what she'd been looking for all along. She'd simply been looking in the wrong places. The boys around her could never give her what she craved, she wanted it all - a god to cling to in public, submit to in the bedroom, and able to fuck her hard enough to keep her unconscious most of the day and pregnant most of the year. Ichigo offered all of it, and at a magnitude the likes of which she'd never dared to imagine. She'd been bred for this day for generations; one could see it clear on her body. Hers was a figure born not of exercise and diet, but of raw genetics, a Japanese princess with a cinched waist, a slender, nubile build, shapely hips and legs, firm, bubbly rear. Her fat, matronly tits found their purpose at last... wrapping full around a cock that wouldn't disappear between them, but tower from their pillowy depths as befit a real man.

She cooed like the sexy, submissive little fuckpet she was as he chose her... and quickly hoisted her into the air. With some help from Yoruichi, he poised her over the veiny head of his pole. There, she was more aware of her vulnerability to male power than ever: each shiver of Ichigo’s veined might made his entire dick tremble and sway back and forth under her pussy, inches from sliding in. 

More to the point, his massive nuts swelled before Yoruichi's eyes, already refilling with the cum they both craved. For Ichigo, just being near pussy put his nuts into aggression-fuelled overdrive, dick growing harder and seed production multiplying a dozen times over. The brown-skinned love doll rewarded his virility by bobbing her head down, working earnestly away at Ichigo's fat, fist-sized balls. She brought their stud to brutishly-full mast as he ground his cockhead against Rangiku’s vulnerable little pussy, ripe for the reshaping, reclaiming, and repurposing. 

Ichigo placed his hands on Rangiku's thighs and pulled her down, pressing her unprotected slit against the tip of his leaking cock. He mashed them together, rubbing his spongy head against her soft pussy, fully lubricating his shaft's tip in bitch juices. Rangiku bucked just at his touch, and how easily he split her labia. 

"Innn... Deep in Rangiku... Deep in Yoruichi...” True to his words, Rangiku seated him insistently against her tiny opening, meant to squeeze and milk a cock like this as it ought to be, not to merely pleasure inadequate little pricks. Even as he pulled her down it was slow-going, progressing only a little at a time. 

She drew closer and closer to the water's surface, sliding down the throbbing pillar... She writhed and twisted from his initial penetration. Her belly bulged with cock, and her porcelain-white butt reflected in the water. 

... As did that split-wide pink peach, lips forced to spread around a monstrous pole, stretched beyond belief to take him in. When her butt finally grazed the water and sank in, it felt like she was at her limit. Ichigo bucked his hips, beginning to thrust and feel pleasure... but still a huge amount of his pole hung out of her, keeping her speared on the end of his dick.

The awesomely-built, muscular man sucked in deep breaths, like he was running a mile marathon. His sculpted chest rose and fell as he implored Yoruichi to help him with his "burden" of the insanely-tight pussy making him want to cum right here and now. He gripped the edges of the jacuzzi tightly, staring up at the ceiling, grunting and wheezing as he struggled with her slick, massaging insides. "Nnngh... Tightest pussy I've - haaaahn - ever fucked... Rangiku, it’s like... you don’t want me inside... I'll fuck you... I'll fuck you!"

He battered her cervix with the blunt head of his cock. He growled like a wild animal, furious at the countless inches of dick that still existed between the base of his crotch and hers. He thrust and wiggled his hips, still sucking in deep breaths. He wanted to blast a huge load already, flood her, but right now it would all just drip out into the pool... And what sort of man would he be if it took more than one fuck to knock her up? 

No, he had to go deeper. He wanted to give the blonde a womb-gasm she felt deep in her core.

Ichigo clutched Rangiku's ass tightly, dragging her down, staring the beautiful girl in the face every inch of the way. "You’re mine now. Slave body. Slave womb."

It was clear that Ichigo still had a long way to go to fit the whole of that monstrous and unflagging length inside of her. If not for her cries and whimpers, the transparent, slick, honeyed wetness drenching his length, dousing it as she was pulled further and further down, she might seem an unwilling participant - if only given the sheer disparity in size and complexion between them. Only the smallest portion of his length had entered her... and she already felt more full than ever, her taut, slender body bulged at the stomach by the sheer thickness of Ichigo's massive, cunt-stretching length.

Yoruichi watched obediently, helping where she could and when the man called for it. From her perspective his progress seemed to have stalled right against her cervix, and Yoruichi just looked on as Rangiku stiffened up on Ichigo. The blonde slut mewled like a wanton whore, nearly climaxing just from feeling him touching her in a place - a depth - that other men simply were not equipped to ever go. 

Yoruichi reared up behind her friend. While Ichigo treated Rangiku to a battering courtesy of his powerful and pistoning hips, she toyed with those soft, heavy tits, drawing moans of rising volume and sweetness from her enraptured harem-mate. There was no rest, no relent in Ichigo’s assault on Rangiku’s womb - he’d already shown her mercy enough taking it slowly to begin with, when he sorely wished to simply spear the whole of it into her woefully unprepared body.

Adultery be damned, there was no denying nature took its rightful course in this coupling. As Ichigo coaxed and worked the cervix opening to him in complete submission, Rangiku accepted this, rolling her eyes back and parting her lips to release gushing praise for the splendid male form under her. She sank below the surface of the water again as the whole of her feminine form completely and utterly became his, succumbing to the conquering will of the huge cock battering at the gates. 

She shuddered and squirmed, a strangled cry drawn from her lips as she felt him deeper than any common man could ever have reached. The more she drew closer to sitting in his lap beneath the water, the more her bulging belly rose unbelievably towards her bouncing breasts. Ichigo sat Rangiku in his lap, fat cock far up in her. The spa’s water sloshed around the girl’s hard-rutting, husband-fucking bodies. 

"I'm... Nnnh... I'm in your cervix now..." groaned Ichigo. His voice lost a fraction of its composure in the face of the almighty bliss of Rangiku’s pussy. But aside from that Ichigo remained resolute, as stoic as he was commanding.

The deeper he got, the more incredible it felt. Where others would have lost their minds long ago, spurting out whatever helplessly tiny loads they could possibly begin to offer up, Ichigo bumped right up against her cervix without flagging. He rubbed on it, thrust against it over and over, driving her wild in the process and goading her to give up a little more of her consciousness.

"It's so good...” he whispered in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of her face. He hungrily took her mouth with his. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked. She nodded intensely, head whipping up and down.

"Your womb is begging to be filled with cum," he hissed, and both girls trembled at the seriousness in his voice. He sank deep into the warm embrace of Rangiku’s baby-chamber, nestling his cock deep in the place that had never been penetrated and never held a baby, but now would do both. He roughly hammered back and forth inside his bitch, water sloshing all around them as he stimulated pussy, vaginal canal, gaping cervix... and her hot, tight, sensitive little womb... with hard dick, all at once. Her pussy stretched beyond belief, the pain she'd felt now turning to insane pleasure. Pleasure too good to exist in any other setting than locked crotch-to-crotch with a man. These girls were supremely grateful to be women when men like Ichigo made them feel this good.

Everywhere the man touched, he claimed without question or hesitation, conquering and staining into utter subjugation by the sheer dominance of his presence, and the unquestionable superiority he waved in the faces of so many other men. His greatness enhanced that of the woman he chose as his claims.

For only in the presence of such unquestionable masculinity, such unparalleled virility, that the virtues of perfect fuckdolls like Rangiku and Yoruichi became apparent. A regular boy with a tiny, pathetic little prick could never appreciate or highlight just how tight their tiny little pussies were. Those men could never truly understand how perfectly their soft, pillowy melons could wrap around a real man's cock, or how their flawless bodies and birthing hips could look so perfect in sharp contrast with his muscular frame.

In the same vein, in the face of such pleasure and subject to unrivalled ecstasy at the hands of this bull - cumming, squirting, twisted at the end of his cock - Rangiku fully understood the pleasure and privilege of being a woman. She experienced such an intense ecstasy it almost brought her to blissful unconsciousness. 

Yoruichi watched, biting her lip with envy as Rangiku reached her first climax. Her cervix was fully breached. Ichigo muffled her moans with his dominating lips over her own. She bucked at him, hips twitching. She craved all of him - every last inch to stuff her body to the brim with throbbing cockmeat in unquestioned surrender.

That she managed to take it all was truly a marvel, the snugness of her squeezing inner walls embracing Ichigo's cock from base to tip. Even minute motions of his hips battered and jostled the fat tip of his length within her womb, keeping her in a constant state of fucked-senseless. 

Truthfully, his precum alone was likely enough to make her good as bred, but that would hardly have been satisfying for either of them. No, even in her hazy state, and even to Yoruichi the current spectator, it was abundantly clear that no one would truly be satisfied until he blasted her womb into pregnant submission.

As she arched her back, leaning into his hands, she presented her breasts to the stud's hungry hands and eyes. "Nn! Nn! Nn! Touch me! Breed me! Yessss!"

Rangiku had already cum once and Ichigo wasn't even thrusting yet, just working his enormous dick into her tiny pussy. But now he was inches from locking that bad boy home, and completing his conquest. Selfish little Rangiku was his bitch in and out, about to learn a life of serving someone other than herself for a change. As Ichigo took advantage of her newly-stretched pussy to begin really thrusting, it seemed like the only future worth embracing anymore.

He hammered into Rangiku again and again, right under Yoruichi's nose. His hips rose and fell with awe-inspiring pace, striking into the Japanese supermodel-level beauty with all the power in his hard, compact frame. As he kissed her and her slut-sister alternating, he took tip-to-balls thrusts that completely rocked Rangiku's world.

Every one of those thrusts drew the lines in the sand. They showed gap between Ichigo and any other man - any other cock. This was particularly true as those final few inches at last worked their way into trembling, cumming Rangiku. From sex to fucking, from fucking to breeding, from breeding to having her womb stretched, again and again she found herself ascending to new heights of pleasure. She underwent new and unexplored levels of ecstasy that only a privileged few women would ever experience. Any slut could fuck, but only a select few could breed with a man of Ichigo’s calibur, or even begin to experience all he had to offer. Most simply weren't worth it, not hot enough, not fertile enough, not built for his virility and sexual strength. It was a small miracle that in the midst of all of her cumming and screaming, all her writhing and twisting and bucking hips soaking his length, that Rangiku was even still conscious. It was nothing short of the absolute genetic purity she possessed that allowed her to truly withstand such a cunt-stretching, womb-wrecking, ovary-knocking slamfucking from a man like that.

In Rangiku and Yoruichi's own minds, this was the new romance. It was a love affair all women could understand, supplanting any sort of pedestrian dreams of settling for peaceful domestic homelife with weak, spineless husbands. They were women worthy of more, with bodies meant to carry and bear the children of real studs. They should be stretched and claimed and conquered by brutish and unquestionable alpha males. 

Now the girls had a new height to aspire to, bringing about a future in which their perfect bodies bred with studs like Ichigo exclusively, and fake men watched on as their numbers dwindled. All wives, daughters, sweethearts, and crushes screamed out in their hearts for alpha males... as their tight, tiny little pussies were resized, as their tits bounced like Rangiku's slapping against Ichigo's chest, jostling and heaving each time one of those slapping, wave-making thrusts sent her slender form bouncing up into the air.

Rangiku could drain an average man in under a minute with her hands alone, or in a single thrust with her tight little cunt. But Ichigo seemed as if he could go for hours, hammering into her... only the grip of his massive, rough hands on her ass keeping her from flying off entirely as all that hard cock dragged out of her petite form only to plunge back in in a depraved rhythm that filled the night air. It was almost as loud and forceful as the sounds of his own grunts and her squeals, whimpers, and screams of ecstasy. 

Yoruichi watched on, awestruck, the whole time lavishing what she could reach in oral attentions. The fucking went on forever. 10 minutes passed. 20 minutes. Ichigo changed positions multiple times, kept himself slick and oiled by humping Yoruichi's face whenever she was near the intertwined cock and cunt. 

And after 30 minutes of continuous fucking, both women felt it throb again. The beast reared its head, roused from its slumber as the slab of cockmeat heated and swelled, pulsed and trembled with power in foreshadowing of what was to come. Ichigo finally loosed his load. It was at least twice the size of the one preceding it, gallons of semen pouring into Rangiku's petite, curvaceous body, filling her to the brim and then some.

The first rope struck audibly against the back of Rangiku's womb as she just about came her brain to mush. Her eyes rolled up and back, her head slumping back and bouncing. Ichigo refused to relent in his thrusts, drilling straight into the back of her womb with every jet and rope until her womb swelled. He made her appears months pregnant in just that first wave.

Rangiku had been bred, right under the nose of her best friend. Other men were out of the question for both of them now as they discovered married dick together. As Rangiku's belly swelled to contain Ichigo’s load - sloshing in her womb and lapping at her eager ovaries - it was over for other men: pindicks were out and bull-cocks were in. 

And most important of all, Ichigo didn't let a single drop drip out. Where another man’s slender girth might have felt all that goo rushing out around it, uselessly pooling in the jacuzzi where it would never impregnate anyone, Ichigo’s mega-cock did its breeding job well. 

He kept her plugged up. He stopped her leaking, and she moaned in lust when she realized he consciously did it. Matsumoto stared up at Ichigo in awe as he kept his cock against her cervix. He wouldn't draw it out until her womb sealed shut behind him, locking all that babymaking ooze inside of her. 

It was humiliating. Like a punishment. He wouldn't let her off the huge enslaving rod until he was certain his load was sealed in her womb. "Hhhhh... Fuck... Yes...” groaned Ichigo.

By the time he'd finished, the beauty slumped, panting, exhausted and barely conscious. She drooled and trembled as Ichigo slowly dragged the fullness of his cock out of her owned and conquered hole. 

Yoruichi bit her lip, envious. There could be no doubt her friend was pregnant, and when Rangiku gave birth there would be no doubt of the father. The melding of superior genes guaranteed a superior bastard, or a perfect sex-doll breeder.

Watching her longtime friend get fucked into a stupor, and a rare silence, had her dripping. She was so ready for sex, and Ichigo felt her gaze boring into his back.

“You did it...” Yoruichi whispered in an awed voice. “You knocked her up... You bred Matsumoto-san... and now this bitch is next... Breed me.”

Breeding. He was a breeder. And these two were his breeding bitches. Female animals that had spent their whole lives preparing for something they weren’t quite sure what it was... only knowing life gave them lessons in what sort of guys not to fuck, but never showing them what to fuck. 

Well now they knew. 

Now they understand what all those make-up lessons were for, not to mention all those expensive dresses and jewelry. Now they understood that weird, unpleasant feeling in their bellies when they spent hours listening to the rationalizations of other boys and girls, whether it was "It's not the size that counts!" or "Women want a sensitive man who's in-touch with his emotions."

They'd lived like fillies surrounding by geldings, and now the stud stallion had wandered out into the pasture, enormous dick swinging between his legs. It felt so natural and right to shoo the "boys" away, raise their hindquarters and... let him pound into them in and out. 

It felt right to let him mate them like the animals they were under their pretty clothing and nice make-up. Like the breeding bitches their lovely bodies marked them as. To stretch them out, ravage them and leave their pussies bright red from overuse... their thighs unable to close after being struck by a man’s strong hips thousands of times... and their wombs aching where he'd conquered them right to the very core. These were all badges of honour that showed they'd endured a real man's ferocious loving, leaving them changed and developed to suit his tastes. By the time Ichigo was done with them, the girls would be enriched, with deeper, thicker and fuller pussies, adapted to handling men’s cocks and spitting out anything smaller. Rangiku's pussy might as well have had a combination lock now: it wouldn't respond to dicks smaller than Ichigo's.

Ichigo’s engorged stallion-like shaft, the immense, brutal cock of a wild and untamed beast, was going to make both these girls into women. Only a certain kind of man could please cock-addicted hyenas like these two, and any woman who didn't understand that... well, they'd know in time, for sure.

After admiring his handiwork on Rangiku, Ichigo sidled in beside Yoruichi. The water positively steamed around that shaft after such an intense fuck-session. He slipped an arm around her, grinning at Rangiku over the head of that erect cock. Of course it was still erect. Two ejaculations and he was still barely scratching the surface. His nuts looked bigger than when he'd started. This man’s power to fuck seemed infinite. He was the ultimate male. "She's done for. You’ll have to handle me on your own."


	6. Jacuzzi Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoruichi and Rangiku compel Ichigo to cheat on his wife Rukia! Strong adultery/cuckolding warning!

In the wake of what Yoruichi witnessed, calling Ichigo merely “impressive” was an understatement. 

“Awe-inspiring.” Now there was a phrase more accurate for the marvellous spectacle of Rangiku's immaculately-sculpted body being pounded into utter submission at the end of that monstrous, weighty slab of cockmeat. 

The Shinigami blonde was barely even conscious, her trim and tiny midsection lewdly bloated... much like the baby bulge she’d sport in earnest with time. Filled to the brim, filled so thoroughly and deeply that her cervix now clutched and clamped down, she retained every last drop of that roiling, incomparable seed laying claim to her womb. She ensured no other man would ever get an opportunity at her sterling breeder genes.

Yoruichi stared on in awe at that huge, swaying rod of demigod breeding meat. It practically steamed in the cool night air, unflagging... even in the wake of a fucking that would have snapped any other man in two. Ichigo’s cock hungered for more even now, lurching towards the dusky gal, beckoning her closer. It invited her to take her rightful place on its tip, to writhe and gyrate just like Rangiku had before her. 

She'd seen, and had, plenty of boys in her life. Far too many in fact, and none of them even close to a match for her own sexual acumen and erotic appetite. The man before her, on the other hand, defied those standards, he exceeded the most ridiculous tales of male pleasure. Even the most hung men she’d ever witnessed during lengthy porn-watching sessions with Rangiku paled in comparison to Ichigo's monstrous, baby-making pillar.

Yoruichi sloshed through the water, hurrying to be closer to him. She perched herself upon Ichigo’s lap, the leggy babe gasping as that huge cock swayed forwards, as if by nature, to settle between her plush, brown melons. 

"O - oh my God..." It was one thing to watch it from afar, or to handle him as a team. But all on her lonesome against the cock... having it right before her and nestled between her tits, that was another thing entirely. 

Of course, it almost went without saying that Yoruichi’s body was born and bred to give men amazing titty-fucks: her chest was as big, lush and bouncy as they came, with a youthful spring that saw boys popping within minutes of the first squeeze.

But all her partners until this point absolutely, utterly paled alongside Ichigo’s rod, of course. He was the biggest, and he was the best, sporting an endowment that made her doubt her luscious black breasts for the first time ever. Still, she turned to face him, fluttering her long eyelashes... and leaned forward. “Here I come, big boy... Try not to move around too much... Don’t wanna wake the wife, right? Mmhmhm...”  
She shifted her weight, enveloping that fat, thick, and still-swelling and turgid cock in her churning, pumping, and plush embrace. She pressed her bust together with both hands, massaging and squeezing down around, and watching in yet more awe as the last few drops of his previous ejaculation sputtered forth, staining her melons with their tingling heat.

Their breeding bull looked only mildly surprised when she came at him breasts-first. But he could see why she wanted to use those big, fat baby-feeders on him before moving on to the main event... For such a petite girl, her rack was absolutely enormous. Three or four more equally-sized bosoms might even swallow his cock up, making for a soft bed of cushiony tit that gave Ichigo's shaft and nuts the squeezing and milking they absolutely deserved. 

Ichigo relaxed against the pool's edge, slinking back off his haunches and sitting firmly in the soothing water. He took Yoruichi's forearms in his beastly grip, tightening his hands in a way that made those sinister, roiling muscles shift and tense under the skin. He reached for her with powerful arms meant to hold down females like her and hauled her up across his lap. He laid Yoruichi's bikini-clad figure across his. Her bottomless behind, completely bare after she'd so quickly ripped it down earlier, rose up out of the soapy water for the briefest of moments... perfect ebony curves dripping torrents of bubbly froth down into the water. Her bare pussy quivered, poised over her master’s body. As he manhandled her, roughly repositioning her to better continue her titty-fuck, that dark little slit got extra-wet for Ichigo’s strong, ivory cock.

Under Ichigo’s dark, impassive eyes, Yoruichi pumped her melons up and down his hard dick. It was a champion effort for just one girl - no woman had breasts big enough for him! - but she certainly made a good showing of herself. Keeping his fuckpole smothered in breast was like trying to leash a wild dog... Every time Ichigo's mighty pecker so much as twitched, it felt like a struggle to contain him, the iron-hard rod twisting and fighting in her cleavage, thrusting against her tits with its barely-restrained power. Whenever she made her bull feel good, he released globs of precum spunk that had to be seen to believe, the head opening up to gush what seemed like endless amounts of semen.

"Mmm... That’s it... God, your body is amazing, Yoruichi... After being married to Rukia, ugh...” 

She slurped her tongue around the head of his cock. “Go on, stud... Say it...”

He grunted, shifted, and thrust into her breasts again. Ichigo gathered strength, power, putting his thoughts into words... then he seized her chest with an animal strength bordering on painful. He gripped massive handfuls of fat, black melon-tit, sinking his light fingers deeper and deeper into her raw body. “I... I forgot...”

“I forgot girls could have lewd bodies like these!” Ichigo snarled in her ear, clutching her rack in a beastly grip. He thrust hard into her chest, slapping her tits with a real man's authority. 

"And they’re gonna get... even bigger... when they swell up with milk! When my brats are nursing off them! You two are both gonna have a lotta babies to feed real soon!"

Whether Ichigo was just saying what he thought Yoruichi wanted to hear, or all their worship and admiration of his infinite virility had paid off... Yoruichi found herself utterly charmed either way. She purred. Her respect for the supreme alpha male had capped out nicely. Where have you been all my life, stud?, she quietly thought to herself.

As Yoruichi adoringly worked her bull’s plump shaft, Ichigo lazed back. He sprawled out across the jacuzzi like it were his throne, looking down on his bitches from on-high. 

Under those cold eyes, Yoruichi realized how sweat-soaked she was, and became aware of how warm the room felt. One would have imagined the room might have been chilly... but somehow her body, and his, boiled like furnaces. Male and female felt constantly dizzy and out of breath, yet infused with more energy than ever.

The sensation of barely being big enough to smother him was a strange one. Ordinarily, Yoruichi dwarfed, engulfed, and overwhelmed even the largest of cocks with her sizable melons. Now she struggled to even contain a length this thick... this huge... this virile... as it twitched and bucked within the embrace of her fat tits. 

And it wasn’t just the size and power that took her breath away, but the quantity of cum produced as well. The more Yoruichi played with Ichigo’s dominating length, the more pearly white globs of thick precum trickled down its length. They shot endlessly from the fat, thickly throbbing head, leaving him slick and glistening.

Even in her long, long life, Yoruichi had never once thought a man might be too big for her... and realizing it now, in the presence of Ichigo, made her stomach churn. This was the only dick she wanted for the rest of her life... the only man good enough to be allowed to fuck her tight little pussy. She felt scared and excited all at once as she played with him, ready to do whatever it took to get this thing balls-deep inside her. The thoughts “He’s too big for me,” and “I’ll make it fit,” jostled for space in her mind, neither quite ever fully departing.

He was too much man for her. 

It was a labor just trying to cover the ground, to give every inch the attention it deserved. The expanse of Ichigo’s cock was too much, so massive... so much territory to cover... Even with her assets, the idea of reaching it all seemed nigh impossible for just one woman.

Still she worked, and made that earnest effort. She worked up and down that length with all the vigor she could muster, trying to contain her excitement. Was it getting bigger? It seemed ludicrous, impossible, but the man hadn't waned in the slightest. If anything, Ichigo had more to give.

The man was a Demigod... It was the only word for it. Superhuman. 

She was sopping wet already, mercifully so given what was to come. She’d need to be wet for the stretching - no, the ruination - that would befall her tight little gym-bunny body!

All her life had been a buildup, preparation in anticipation of this moment, this meeting. She considered herself fortunate to have been claimed by Ichigo, used and owned by a man truly worthy of her body, and her womb. She’d push out his superior bastards for the rest of her days, fucked continuously into a blissful stupor.

With these thoughts in the perfect little breeder bitch's mind, what else was there left to do but to truly devote herself to Ichigo, to use every ounce of her strength in satisfying her master? At this point, as her insemination loomed closer and close, Ichigo didn't look like he would accept anything else than total ownership of her lovely body - anything less than her being his possession, and his slave.

"Mmmn... Ohhh fuck, that’s good... Yoruichi’s tits... They’re all over me... I’ve never had tits this big on my dick...” 

He smiled at the gorgeous, supermodel-level beauty sprawled over his lap, and decided it was time for Yoruichi to come down from her lofty perch... Up there, all she did was milk the shaft's head, pumping him with her titties while his hard cock throbbed and pounded against her abs and tummy. 

"Come here, bitch," Ichigo husked. He spread those magnificent legs of his, made up of muscle packed on muscle, dropping her down to the jacuzzi floor. While Ichigo used one hand to keep her udders flush against him, he used the other to guide her down his pole. He kept her face inches from the super-cock all the way down, pink-capped peaks coming closer and closer to his belly. But goodness was it a long trip down.

It felt like whole minutes passed just making that drawn-out descent down Ichigo’s pole. Inch after inch rushed past her eyes, each thicker and more potent than the one before it. Muscle and veins shifted under his skin, every last one a reminder of what a wild bronco this cock sandwiched between her soft, pale breasts was. Pound after pound of veined fuckmeat flashed before her the breeder's eyes, dripping fresh soap-suds her chest had just applied, as the thickly-veined, throbbing, turgid cock dragged past Yoruichi’s eyes and between her tits. She went down to the base, and into the water, as she moved down, down, down. 

And then, when her body was half-stretched out across the jacuzzi’s entire length, almost totally sunk into the water's embrace (except for her heart-shaped ass just poking up!), the female slave looked up at the grand tower looming over her. It cast a loooong shadow over the Shinigami at its base... all while that beastly organ's owner moaned his appreciation.

Yoruichi gasped as she looked up at all that man... as she gazed upon the spectacle of those unending inches of Ichigo’s towering slab. His masculinity stretched high over her - over her face - shuddering as if enraged. It throbbed with power and might... a precursor of things to come. 

The sight itself was awe-inspiring enough, but moreso than that she could feel it. Like a spring coiling just below her, those huge swaying orbs tensed and thickened, heating and roiling, churning in a brief precursor of what would be an unparalleled display of masculine might.

Ichigo cried out in his third, but not final, orgasm of the night. He growled in the back of his throat as he blasted thick jets of semen, turning the roiling contents of his big full balls into a shower. He jammed Yoruichi’s face into his nuts, letting her feel the armies of seed flowing and gushing out against her face... and the incredibly-violent force he disgorged them with.

Jets and jets of his thick, sticky whiteness geysered into the air, utterly uncontrolled. The little jacuzzi, and both Yoruichi and Rangiku's bodies, were soon targets for sheets of virile, sticky cum to come splashing down, splattering everything in sight.

Their cries sounded as they were left soaked with cum: "Oooouuuhhh! Fuck! Mmm!"

The message was unmistakable, the implications clear as day. Yoruichi inherently understood what would happen if an explosion of that magnitude occurred whilst Ichigo was buried to the balls within some lucky and delirious breeder. 

Within her.

Ordinary men would have worried about spending themselves, wringing themselves dry before the main event, but that wasn’t a concern for Ichigo. He seemed to grow even stronger, even more virile, with every discharge Rangiku and Yoruichi coaxed forth from the huge, heavy orbs flanking his endowment.

The hot tub’s gently-churning surface now sloshed with heavy, thick, gobs of Ichigo’s steaming seed. And yet again, for all of the ruckus... for all that display... for as violent and intense as his discharge had been... Ichigo had not flagged even in the slightest. He was as strong and ferocious as ever, ready to go again already just moments after such a cartoonishly-impressive display of masculine virility.

Ichigo felt as if he was awakening from a dream. For the first time since he’d hilted his meat between his lucky worshipper's big fat melons, he stopped to take in his surroundings. 

Understandably, he wrinkled his nose at what he saw. The jacuzzi was good and proper spunked-up, dripping in his steamy excess. 

The more Yoruichi saw of Ichigo’s power, the more she was convinced she was lucky to have gone second. Rangiku might have gotten the first taste, but she'd missed out on the spectacle - a rapid-fire series of awe-inspiring displays. Yoruichi had been the only witness to the veritable onslaught. 

Ichigo left nothing but destruction in his wake. The jacuzzi had been fully transformed into a breeding ground, a safety hazard marinating in the mess of just a single load from Ichigo’s behemoth. This was now a place where the most gorgeous of girls checked in... and checked out as mewling, slavering breeder-skanks that trembled under the burden of their newly-expanded, immensely- bulging bellies. Fat cocks and tight pussies came here to get horny and drip-drip-drip... 

It was all lead-up to making sure bad little brats ended up getting what they really wanted: pregnancies that strained their bellies to the absolute brim with stud-spawn.

Some long-since-forgotten part of Yoruichi's female psyche considered this nothing short of ironclad evidence that this man had been built to claim the finest women, the most perfect prizes. He lived to sow his seed in only the best-bred and most-pristine wombs of females.

“Hfff... What a mess...” Ichigo groaned, taking in the semen-soaked bathroom. 

The comment earned him a sly slime from Yoruichi. ”What’s the matter, Ichigo? Afraid that wife of yours won’t clean up after us?” 

\---

After so thoroughly despoiling the jacuzzi, Ichigo felt it was time to get outside. With nothing short of the tremendous strength Yoruichi knew him for, Ichigo hefted her up in his arms, carrying the awed little slut in a bridal lift and taking her to the balcony. 

The chilly night air bowed to his presence, pushed aside by the heat rolling continuously off his body.

The brightly-lit city stretched out below them, but Ichigo paid it no mind. He slung her ankles over the balcony's railing, arms wrapped around her midsection. Her bare feet hung over the edge of the ceiling for a moment as Ichigo pressed into her from behind, sandwiching his washboard abs against Yoruichi’s slender spine.

He shifted his grip down to under her thighs, hoisting her legs up. The chesty babe gasped as as he folded her body, pinning them to her belly. Her pole-dancing experience came in hand as he put her ankles up near her ears, framing those heaving, trembling tits. 

He was so strong the position was effortless. Yoruichi felt like a doll in Ichigo's grasp - a toy for him to play with as he pleased. 

With his arms locked under Yoruichi’s knees, Ichigo lifted her into the air, her legs spread open in a wide "V"-shape. A full-nelson mating lock. 

He moved his virile dick up towards the brown girl’s bare pink pussy, and he lowered her onto it. "Mmmgh... Here it comes...”

She watched in awe as that huge, turgid length rose before her very eyes to slap and thump heavily against her tight, tiny little pink pussy. Had she even wanted to resist, the very idea of it seemed inconceivable as he hoisted her up. She gasped at first contact - that scalding, heated, and buzzing tip seated firmly against her tight little sex, pressing her folds open by the shape and weight of it alone.

As jacuzzi water dripped from their bodies, pooling at Ichigo’s feet, he penetrated Yoruichi. Her tight little petals dribbled nectar over his length, lubricating him. It was still woefully insufficient for the task of getting him inside, but showed her body's worshipful submission.

Slowly, and deliberately, Ichigo began to force Yoruichi down. She threw her head back immediately, arching, breasts bouncing as she cried out in ecstasy and agony. Her tight brown pussy stretched to its limits and beyond as Ichigo reshaped her around his length, inch by inch. He continued to resize her for her new purpose, ensuring her body remembered this moment forever.

Ichigo controlled the rate at which she pumped up and down his colossal shaft with flexes of his powerful arms. “Here comes the dick you’ve been craving... By the time I'm... Nnngh... done... you’ll hate other boys."

“How do you know I don’t already, Ichigo~?” she purred, sighing as he slid into her. “You know you’re the only one for us...”

Under the stars above, Ichigo continued breaking in Yoruichi’s youthful body. He wanted to breed with her so badly. But to achieve that, first Ichigo had to actually fit inside Yoruichi. She wasn't making it easy.

No amount of lubrication could change the fact that her pussy gripped him so perfectly tightly, or that savage cocks like Ichigo's had to be measured in feet, not inches. Even an ordinary man would have had to squirm and grind to fit inside such a tight little slit, let alone the biggest, hard cock of all time.

Ichigo jostled the little tart atop his cock. He bounced her so hard her titties rose and fell on her chest in waves, somehow still supported by that cutesy bikini top despite all the fucking that had transpired. He laid her shoulder blades across his pecs and kissed her, each smooch like a command for her to open up a little more. To let him get a little closer to giving this heavenly breeding bitch the wombfuck they were both craving.

With a nasty, drawn-out slurching, he began to slide into her, one inch at a time. Each time he went deeper, there were a precious few moments of resistance... each time summarily ended by a pistoning thrust. He dragged Yoruichi's body slowly down, her cries and gasps staining the night air with her steamed breaths.

Yoruichi’s toes curled and her whole body shook, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so thoroughly and irreversibly stretched. It was a sight most would call impossible, those inches being fed slowly, surely into her petite, pink, pussy... that tight, wet little tunnel strained and stretched wide, clamping down on all sides, writhing and twisting around even just the head as it popped into her with a satisfying and clearly audible 'shlick'. 

Her body's firmest efforts to reject him, to keep out the supreme invader with impossible tightness, turned into a pressure all around his dick, a squeezing that made this hung, potent stud see stars. Ichigo growled out long and low as he bounced Yoruichi on his pecker.

Miss Shihōin twisted her hips despite herself, writhing and screwing back against the thrusts that came without mercy - that sent her vision spiralling into starry blackness, and her tongue lolling deliriously. Her trim, gym-toned abdomen bulged like a depraved illustration of just how deep he was, and how much deeper he intended to go.

With knees slightly bent, Ichigo started to really piston her up and down, slithering that tight hole around his dick faster than either of them could cope with. He roared in a mixture of pain and pleasure, forcing that pussy to let him in, forcing it to become a Man-Owned Cunt. "Mmmnn... Yeah... Two girls at once..."

It was the perfect combination, a body genetically perfected to toe the line, so tight and so tiny and so voluptuous as to be unrivalled. And yet just flexible enough, moldable enough, to be made to fit a monstrous male pillar... if only a suitably determined studly specimen were to try. 

And try Ichigo did, bouncing the busty beauty slowly down. Each rise and fall fed her another few inches, his progress slow but measurable, particularly as more and more of his length was stained in glistening, honeyed wetness... and as the bulge distending her belly rose gradually up... up... up... Yoruichi's body.

She rolled her head back as the first of many waves of orgasm rolled over her body, culminating in a sweet spray of her arousal that anointed his fat cockmeat.

It was a small wonder neither of them had passed out yet by the sheer intensity of it all, the pleasure of the tightest fit known to any coupling of man and woman. It was enough to flicker Yoruichi's conscious mind in and out of commission, and to make even the incomparable stud behind her roar in approval. 

In a period of time that would have easily accommodated an entire session of sex with a lesser man, Ichigo had only managed to fit six inches of himself inside her. But in the process, he wrung nearly a half dozen orgasms from the little breeder manhandled down onto his babymaker. At seven inches, the real fun began, the telltale tap and scrape of that fat, thickly-throbbing head against Yoruichi's cervix drawing a trembling cry from her lips. Her whole body convulsed in the full-nelson hold of that huge stud.

The cold wind whipped at the lovemaking pair, tousling Yoruichi's perfect locks about her lovely face just as it caressed Ichigo's short orange hair. He growled like a beast in her ear as he slid her up and down, distending her flawlessly-flat belly with an unholy amount of cock.

"My bitch... My breeding bitch... Mmm..."

Inside of her, they both felt the thick, fist-sized head of his babymaker wrestling with a womb barely even a third its size... Demanding it be let in, ruthlessly forcing its way in! He was tireless in fucking this Shinigami to her core, groaning in frustration every time his pole bumped her cervix and wasn't permitted entry. "I’ll make it official... Let me in...”

His voice got hoarse: “I’ll flood these ovaries...”

He circled around the head of her cervix lips with his enormous cock, forcing against it again and again. "I’ll fuck you right to the very core... You and Rangiku... All the girls with bodies like this...” 

Knock knock. He made her see stars again as that enormous cock-head thumped on her womb. Each thrust was like its own little orgasm now, the perfect match of dick and pussy almost fully realized. Her tummy was bulged, chocolate skin turning a bruised shade of purple every time he pounded her stomach... how much would it have to strain to contain when he'd packed every awesome inch in her?

Ichigo kissed Yoruichi roughly on the mouth, working furiously to loosen her cervix. He moved like a man possessed. He was more like a safecracker than a lover, bumping the blunt head of his dick against the mouth of her cervix over and over, countless inches still hanging out of her cunt. "Come on, Yoruichi... When you feel it inside there, you’ll cum soooo hard."

Yoruichi filled the air with the wanton moans and gasps and whimpers of a girl being ravaged by a man. Ichigo’s pistoning thrusts paired with the bobbing of her body, dragging her up and down his entire length each time, her cervix slamming headlong into that savagely thrusting tip over and over. 

Again and again shudders ran up her spine, and she rolled her eyes up and back into her skull. Uncontrolled spasms and jerks overcame her body, only reined in by the way Ichigo commanded her movements. 

There was a primal grace to their lovemaking, a degree of calculated, brutish effort as he screwed her onto his cock - scraping and screwing up into her cervix as if finding the key to unlocking that last impediment to the body he had so rightfully claimed.

It was a fate Rangiku had already suffered. Now it was Yoruichi's turn. 

Bit by bit, little by little, the beast made headway. With each thrust, Yoruichi’s whole body jerked with sensitivity, heavy, milky tits bouncing freely in their scant confines. Her cervix depressed, bending back, yielding to the force of the battering, gradually yielding. It was the final barrier, the only thing preventing a veritable flood.

Seemingly countless inches yet remained, waiting to batter and plunge their way into her tight little breeder cunt, trembling and shaking with anticipation as the steady bend, and surrender, of her cervix became more and more apparent. With one more powerful thrust, a muffled scream ripped its way free of Yoruichi’s throat. 

She stopped dead once more, her cervix wedged up against his tip... then giving way completely. She sank down onto him another few inches with an almost audible pop. Her whole body tensed, spasmed, and squirted for full minutes before she finally went limp with exhaustion.

He’d breached her gate, her womb violated as was destined. Ichigo’s massive babymaker pushed inside, jets of pre-cum invading her most fertile depths, wasting no time in staking their claim. Even then she'd taken barely over half of Ichigo's length, her womb stretching obscenely just to accommodate his head, but soon to be made into little more than a pleasant, tight little sleeve as he worked the rest of his monster cock into her comparatively tiny body. Even the slightest of movements, the most insignificant sway or twist of his hips sent the exhausted breeder-bunny into convulsions, trembling, arching, squirting climaxes ripping unmercifully through her body time and time again. It ingrained in her the superiority of the monstrous pillar of cockmeat buried in her to her navel.

Her womb tightening around Ichigo's massive mega-cock was everything he'd hoped for and more... a beautiful surrender to the stud holding her leash. 

She looked so happy in sexual slavery... enjoying a pervasive pleasure that was completely off-limits to Rukia. It was a naughty bliss reserved solely for bulls and their super-fertile sluts, and Ichigo could see the effect it had on her, her lust flowing down out of her, and over his greased-up cock. Like Rangiku before her - like any girl! - Yoruichi was programmed to have mild-melting orgasms from only the biggest and best of dicks, making Ichigo the perfect match for her.

This was liberation! This was taking a big swinging fuckrods and putting it exactly where it needed to go... If it hadn’t been for Yoruichi and Rangiku, some other pair of big-titty bimbo besties would have gotten in on the ground floor and snaffled Rukia’s man... Girls had only gotten more lovely and voluptuous over the years, while Rukia was scrawnier than ever! 

But while she’d made up for her tiny size with plenty of attitude and bitchiness, the voluptuous sex queens of the modern era had become supplicative and worshipful towards masterful men like Ichigo... It would have been enough for Ichigo to drop his pants to make those sluts begin to salivate from both their dick entry slots at once.

The ultimate male-master and the perfect slave-female had finally emerged, and now they were here together, locked in coitus in a way that would permanently change Yoruichi's mind about sex, and her place in the world. That sensation only heightened when Ichigo hilted inside of her little body.

Ordinarily, Yoruichi wouldn't have even imagined it possible. Yet here she was, taking it, in an utterly orgasm-ruined stupor. Her tearful eyes rolled all the way back, her tongue hung loose, her body twitched and convulsed as her womb was mercilessly pounded... she could scarcely think of anything else! 

The very moment that final portion, that thick, heavy base, hilted within her, her whole body bloomed with heat, her hot, wet little tunnel clutching and clamping, squeezing down with all it could muster around Ichigo's monster length, as if preparing, pleading, milking every last drop that he was soon to deliver to her most vulnerable depths.

Ichigo started cumming his balls dry inside the woman who wasn’t his wife. While he held Yoruichi in a wife-like grip, Rukia slept like a baby just a few scant rooms away.

Yoruichi had seen the volleys and jets of semen before, watching them arc foot after foot of distance into the air. Now she was getting to feel that inside of her as her stud bellowed and growled. His powerful arms trapped her, imprisoned her, tightened up until her thighs were squashed flat against her belly. He drove her cunt up and down his pole, stretching pussy and cervix all at once, beating on her womb. Her stomach bulged with the visible outline of a cock's hard, flared head as Ichigo began emptying his nuts inside of her.

"Yoruichi! Get pregnant!" he growled, functioning on pure biological imperative. He willed his powerful seed to take root, banishing his fidelity with powerful thrusts. So much goop flowed into her they could hear it; each long, drawn-out gush from him was followed by a thirsty "Gulp" from her insides. He poured his jizz into her receptive womb. 

Jet after jet of roiling, sticky, clinging ropes battered their way into Yoruichi, gushing and spattering in wet, bubbling impacts against the strained and stretched walls of her innermost depths. By the sheer pressure of it, the near endless volume, the thick, sperm-dense concoction packed its way into her tubes, flooding her to the ovaries. Mind-shattering orgasms bolted through the whole of her body as the sensation of those millions of virile swimmers battering into those most fertile grounds that only the most worthy of men dared to claim.

It just moments her normally taut, flat stomach bulged with the telltale results of Ichigo's eruption, mirroring the pregnancy that would follow. Yoruichi joined the blonde bitch Rangiku in being bred into mindless stupor by their stud. She twitched and trembled, delirious and ruinous pleasure showing clear in her rolled-back eyes. Both girls utterly and completely submitted to their fates, gleefully knocked up, blissfully owned in the wake of their world-shattering experience.

Ichigo drew back enough that she leaked. Ichigo immediately thrust back inside, packing all that male ejaculate back inside of her... not to mention topping it up with another jet while he was there. Her belly bulged as he came again and again... and only when he'd completely filled her did he finally seem sated.

"Mmgh... Mm..." He let her legs down, and her feet touched the balcony again. Seeing she’d drop to her knees if he let her go for so much as a second, he supported her. "Ahh..."

Even with her legs released Yoruichi remained upright, the heavy-titted blonde held aloft by the cock still impaled within her alongside an arm around her still twisting and writhing midsection, still cumming long after Ichigo's initial barrage had come to an end.

\---

Nine months later, at the hospital, Rangiku and Yoruichi were parked in beds side by side, both girls rubbing their massively-expanded midsections... They lay belly-to-belly, trading saliva as they orgasmed their brains out giving birth to flawless, beautiful babies.

They both crowned little heads at the same time, babies they'd nurtured in their wombs for all those long months... two more powerful, godlike, strong, daunting baby boys just like their daddy.

But the real shock came when Yoruichi kept on cumming, kept on giving birth. Whereas Rangiku had just had one baby, it seemed like the extra-deep pounding Yoruichi received had given her twins. Her son was barely even out of her before another head followed... A sweet little baby girl as lovely as an angel, laid down between her two brothers.

And Ichigo knew he’d be making more soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure to support the Patreon on my userpage if you'd like more stories like this one!


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